Under a Swift Sunrise
by Lirenel
Summary: The consequences of a different choice in 'Letting Go' spread further as Edmund, Lucy, and Eustace join Caspian on the Dawn Treader for an adventure through despair and delight, until they come to the end of the world and face the inevitable truth of life. *Any warnings can be found on my user page*
1. Prologue

**Title: **Under a Swift Sunrise  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, book or movie, etc.  
**Note**: So, this is it: the last fanfic. Thank you to everyone who has read, favorite, subscribed, and reviewed my fics over the last eleven (eleven!) years. It's been a wonderful ride, and you are part of the reason why; I wouldn't be close to a good writer without you. Thank you in particular to USMA2020, rosebudmelissa, and WriterFreak101 for betaing this for me.

And now, I hope you enjoy 'Under a Swift Sunrise', the sequel to 'Letting Go' and my fanfiction swan song.

* * *

_**Prologue**_

Merrick Olsen, photographer for the _Washington World Reporter_, had never been on a boat before in his life. Even traveling up to Canada, to cover the war preparations there, he had traveled over land the entire way. Which was why, having obtained passage on the British merchantman _S.S. Pevensey Bay_, he was unprepared to spend the first two days at sea confined to his bunk in utter desolation from seasickness. In his darkest moments, Merrick almost wished for one of those blasted U-Boats which patrolled the North Atlantic to just torpedo the ship and put him out of his misery.

His only refuge was in sleep; he was grateful he had been given a little closet-room of his own, and was unlikely to be disturbed by anything other than the torturous rocking of the ship. That is, he _thought_ he would be undisturbed. It was rather disconcerting to be woken on his second day of agony by a slight tapping on his cheek. His eyes blinked open to reveal a concerned face. "Wha?" Merrick managed to make out before a dip turned his stomach and he closed his eyes tightly to try and quell his nausea.

"Here, drink this." Drink, was this fellow mad? "I promise, it will help. And you need liquids." Reason overcame revulsion for a brief moment, and so Merrick dutifully accepted the new man's help in taking a few unsteady sips from a cup filled with spicy liquid. There was a hint of ginger, and something else he could not identify, but it was not long before his stomach was feeling remarkably better.

Merrick blinked his eyes; the swinging lantern in the cramped quarters no longer contributed to vertigo, and he felt better than he had felt in what seemed like forever. "That…what _is _that?"

The man kneeling by his bedside laughed. "I wish I knew. My brother would have _killed_ for it at certain times in our lives. But Mickey – that's our cook, Kostas Michaelides – refuses to let go of the recipe. Says it's been in his family for over five hundred years and if the Turks couldn't get it out of them, no one could." Merrick surprised himself by being able to let out a short laugh without wanting to die from nausea. The man patted Merrick on the shoulder and stood. "Give it a quarter hour and come down to the galley, we'll get you something your stomach can keep down. I have a few chores to do beforehand."

And with that, the man headed out the door. Merrick called out: "Thanks, pal!" The man turned halfway and Merrick's eyes widened and then narrowed. The photographer was the unfortunate possessor of five younger brothers and if that _man_ was any older than fourteen he would eat his camera. What on earth was a _child_ – a child the age of his fourth-youngest brother, Wilfred – doing on a ship, in the middle of a U-boat infested sea, during a war?

The boy – for he was certainly a boy and Merrick refused to believe otherwise – did not seem aware of the scrutiny he was under. Instead, he just smiled and gave him an easy-going, "You're welcome," before leaving Merrick to his thoughts.

Now, Merrick was a photographer, and a darn good one, if he said so himself. There was a reason his bosses had pushed the British to allow him on this supply convoy to England. But regardless of the fact that he was simply there to take photographs, Merrick worked round-the-clock surrounded by reporters. He had learned to smell a story, and he had the feeling that this kid would give him one hell of a story to tell. And, like his reporter friends, he was determined to get it.

.

At the appointed time, Merrick made his way through the dark bowels of the ship towards the galley. Well, he thought he was heading towards the galley, but he got turned around at least three times; finally, one of the Ordinary Seamen, a young twenty-something Brit named Jones, kindly guided him there. "Hey, Pedhin!" Jones cried out when they entered the kitchen, and Merrick was puzzled when the boy who had helped him earlier, now sitting at the table peeling potatoes, almost jumped out of his skin at Jones' voice.

The boy – Pedhin? Odd name, that – turned and scowled darkly at the seaman. "Don't _do_ that, Taffy!"

Jones rolled his eyes and moved to ruffle the boy's hair, which caused the scowl to darken further. "Stop calling me Taffy and I may consider it."

Pedhin slapped away Jones' hand, but there was a good-natured quirk to his lips. "Mickey, tell him to stop!"

A middle-aged, muscular man came in from another room; judging by the apron tied around his waist, he was the cook. The long, black, knotted rope wrapped around his left wrist was a little perplexing, but a friendly smile lit up the room, drawing everyone's attention. "Young one, quit startling Pedhin. Pedhin, quit annoying Jones, you know he hates being called Taffy," Mickey said with a lilting Greek accent. The cook smiled at a rather confused Merrick. "Boys are boys, is that not the saying? Come, you must eat something. Pedhin tells me my little elixir did you well, but you need food in you." After a bewildering flurry of a moment, Merrick found himself sitting next to Pedhin with a bowl of soup, some bread, and more of the ginger drink before him; the cook gave him a look that reminded Merrick so much of his grandmother that he was eating before he could even think about whether he wanted to or not.

Jones left soon after, and the other two left Merrick to his food. After a few minutes, Merrick realized that they were both _humming_. Strangely, though they were clearly humming different songs – and neither of them anything Merrick recognized – they were not out of harmony with each other. Pedhin would hum a light tune, keeping the beat with his potato peeler, while Mickey would counter with something that sounded strangely religious as he bustled around the galley, making some meal or another. Both songs had an ancient air to them, incongruous with the catchy tunes Merrick had come to expect from his time photographing the Canadian war effort. The picture of the two of them singing together caught his interest and his fingers itched to get his camera out of the bag he had brought with him – he never let his camera out of his sight – but anytime he stopped eating, Mickey would whirl around and give him that _look_ again, until Merrick sheepishly returned to his food like a good little boy. He made a mental note to come back and photograph a similar scene in the future.

Finally, Mickey left the room to fetch something, and Merrick put his spoon down with a groan. Beside him, Pedhin laughed. "Yes, he's something, isn't he? A good man, though. He keeps us fed, whether we like it or not."

"And apparently keeps the peace on board as well," Merrick said, commenting on Mickey's apparent role as diplomat for feuding sailors.

Pedhin nodded, his attention still on the potatoes. "Wouldn't need to if Taffy would stop _talking_ – his voice is startlingly like my older brother's," the boy explained. Merrick could see how that could be strange, given his own experiences with brothers, and said so. "Yes, though if my brother _were_ here he wouldn't be as chipper as Taffy – he reacts about as well to sea-faring as you," he said in a teasing tone.

Merrick laughed good-naturedly; the boy really did remind him of Owen. "I should thank you again for your help with that, er, Pedhin."

The boy grinned. "Well, it is my job to help out the crew and any passengers daft enough to want to come with us." Pedhin patted his arm in mock condescension. "Also, my name is Edmund. Edmund Pevensie. Yes, like the ship, though it's spelled differently from the _Pevensey Bay,_" he added when Merrick raised an eyebrow. "The crew thought this was a bad omen or something, which is why Mickey's nickname for me seems to have stuck."

"Well," said Merrick, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Edmund Pevensie." Still, Merrick had a feeling the boy would always be 'Pedhin' in his mind from now on. He lifted his cup of ginger seasickness cure in salute. "And here's to an uneventful trip."

Pedhin, not having a drink, saluted back with a half-peeled potato. "As to that, word of advice: considering what we're carrying…" he trailed off and gave Merrick a wicked grin, "if you hear the signal for a U-boat, I'd head straight to the top deck and jump in a life raft, if I were you."

Merrick laughed with him, but a little of the seasickness returned.

0000000000

Braced with a continual supply of ginger drink, Merrick spent the next few days in a whirlwind of activity. He was not able to record all of the ship – for security reasons, obviously – but he found a new passion in photographing the crew of the_ Pevensey Bay_ as they went about their duties. So much of it was remarkably mundane: cleaning the deck, painting, standing on watch. And yet there was so much _life_ involved. Men joked with each other, bragged about their girls, and really just acted like the boys and men they were: civilians living life in the most dangerous part of the world. That was what Merrick's camera captured:

*_Snap*_

Three seamen, arms linked, singing a bawdy pub song.

*_Snap_*

Jones sneaking up behind Pedhin, unaware that the boy was rolling his eyes for the camera in anticipation.

*_Snap_*

Mickey belting out some Greek version of the Hallelujah chorus as he boiled cabbage.

*_Snap_*

An impromptu snowball fight as they neared the northernmost part of their journey and were forced to knock ice off the ship.

*_Snap_*

The RNR ranks teaching some of the merchant seamen how to use the deck guns.

*_Snap_*

Four members of the crew showing off photos: Harvey, Jones, and Singh reminiscing about their wives and girlfriends, Pedhin proudly bragging about his sisters and brother.

.

Merrick shoved his camera back in his bag and collapsed heavily on his bed. That last picture had really gotten to him. The kid wasn't even old enough to have a girl waiting for him back home; what the hell was he doing_ here_? These past few days, Merrick had started to really get a sense of the dangers faced by these merchantmen. He heard the whispers about the danger of their cargo; he heard the worried talk about how many convoys had been hit, how many ships had been sunk, how many lives had been lost. Harvey had told him how he had already lost his father and two brothers in three different convoys, over the span of the last two years. Each morning, Mickey prayed in front of a picture of Christ that hung in the galley, weaving the length of black, knotted rope through his fingers, murmuring a prayer for each knot as his forehead creased with concentration.

Halfway into the journey, Merrick saw how shaken the crew was after they ran into a terrible, northern storm. They had lost a man overboard in the waves and ice. The ship had fallen slightly behind the convoy and was struggling to regain it, and its protective escort, before they were picked off by a Wolfpack. And yet, through it all, even before they found the escorts again, the crew's spirits remained high, thanks in large part to the efforts of the ship's cook and cabin boy.

Mickey and Pedhin were a force to be reckoned with. The cook _mothered_ the crew. Always smiling, his singing often rang through the halls. Few understood what he was saying – for the songs were all in Greek – but the music was enough to lift spirits or calm anger or catch the hearts of all who heard him. Mickey was incredibly skilled at stretching the small amount of poor quality food as far as possible, and was intent on making sure that it was doled out fairly. All on the ship knew that they would find a hot cup of tea and a ready ear waiting for them in the galley. More than once Merrick found himself in the galley, pulling every crumb of information he could from the sometimes evasive cook regarding the one frustrating conundrum that the photographer could not figure out despite his best efforts: Pedhin.

Pedhin was a child, and Merrick could not stop thinking of him as such, but there was a maturity in his manner at odds with his age. Was this what the war was doing to the children in England? Forcing them to be men, to be soldiers? For most hours on watch, Merrick could find Pedhin cheerfully doing his best to clean the ship, or running messages from the bridge, or helping Mickey with the cooking. Yet at times he could be found deep in intense discussions of war strategies with the RNR ratings by the deck guns. Often he was a ready and consoling confidant for some of the older crewmen, who were still haunted by their experiences in the trenches of the last war; experiences lived decades before Pedhin was even born, and yet he seemed to listen to them with understanding. Once Merrick even witnessed the ship's master – they were not called captains, apparently – talking with Pedhin about the naval battles of the Great War, and the photographer's expert eye could tell that the boy's insight impressed the grizzled former naval officer. There was just something intangible about Pedhin that everyone seemed to sense and that no one understood, not even Jones, Pedhin's closest friend after Mickey. It was hopelessly irritating.

However, even Mickey was not much help to Merrick in unraveling the mystery, despite the fact that the cook seemed to understand the boy better than anyone else on the ship. One discussion stood out in Merrick's mind. He had been asking Mickey what was happening in England that could mature a child to the point that he was able to pass as a young man years older. Mickey smiled – he always seemed to be smiling – and did not admit to the fact that he knew that Pedhin was underage. But the smile turned serious when Merrick, annoyed at the dissembling, accused him of allowing a child to endanger his life needlessly. Mickey put down the can he was opening and leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together under his chin. There was a moment of silence and then the cook spoke, his voice low and serious:

"I lay aside the fact that no child is safe anywhere in Europe at these times. That is not what you speak of, I think." Merrick shook his head, and Mickey continued. "Pedhin…he is not a child." When Merrick went to protest, Mickey cut him off. "I do not mean his age. I mean his heart, his mind. But I give you this: he is a paradox. He is a cabin boy who can read the sea better than some seamen. He is a happy child who sings songs of suffering and death and redemption with eyes of understanding. He is confused when I speak of Christ and the saints, but has told us stories where Death is conquered by a Great Lion, with faithful kings and queens who pray to a God who is both matter and spirit. He is a boy who knows his sins, deep sins that might break a man." A strange glow came to Mickey's eyes as he spoke with deep conviction: "We Greeks know of heroes, but my ancestors learned many centuries ago that heroes are not those with the mightiest weapon; heroes are, I do not know how to say… dedicated souls?" There was mystery, sadness in the smile that crossed Mickey's face. "Do not underestimate Edmund Pevensie, Mr. Olsen, for he has the soul of a true hero."

It was that conversation that followed Merrick for days afterward, and followed him even now as he went to bed. His boots on and his lifejacket at arm's reach, as usual, Merrick fell asleep to the rocking of the sea and the echo of a Greek voice chanting a haunting melody with words unknown and yet compelling.

000000000

Merrick woke quickly, and at first he was not sure why. There had been a sound, an odd sound, registering even among the tremor of engines that usually overcame all other noises. Mind muddled and eyes blurry, Merrick scrambled out of bed, struggled into his lifejacket, and grabbed his camera as he heard shouting through the bulkhead. He had only just opened the door when his shirt was grabbed and he was hauled out of the room by a surprisingly strong Pedhin. The boy's face, usually pale, was ghost-white in the dimly lit passageway, and his lips were pursed in a tense line. Pedhin's voice was low, but could be heard over the commotion. "A ship to our port…I think it was the _Carousel_…it was just hit. We need to get you to the lifeboats."

In shock at the news, Merrick allowed himself to be pulled along the passageway. Men ran past them, going this way and that, shouting almost incomprehensibly, but the situation was clear: the _Pevensey Bay_ was pushing full steam, but it would not be enough. Pedhin had, one evening, explained things simply to Merrick. The _Pevensey Bay, _laden with immense tonnage as she was, could not go faster than eight knots, and the old ship would be breaking apart even at that. They could not outrun a U-boat. They could only sail on, and pray that the escorts would come and depth-charge the enemy, pray that they would not be the next target. Pedhin had also explained that the ship's master had assigned him to take charge of Merrick and make sure the photographer stayed out of the way during an attack, and get him into a lifeboat should the worst happen.

Which was why Pedhin now had an iron grip on Merrick's arm as the two raced through the passageways. One deck up, they almost literally ran into Mickey, his usual smile small and forced. Not a word was spoken as the three continued upward, passing the engine room where the engineers continued their work, despite the fact that it was the most dangerous place on the entire ship at that moment: the most likely the be targeted, the most likely to be the doom of all inside should a torpedo hit. Mickey paused only a moment there, waving his right hand from head to chest, and shoulder to shoulder before he continued with Pedhin and Merrick up the ladder to the next deck. Merrick vaguely wondered what the motion meant, but had no time to ponder it.

There was no time to ponder because, almost as soon as they entered the passageways on that deck, a torpedo hit the _Pevensey Bay, _the bulkhead next to them exploded, and Merrick's mind fell to darkness.

0000000000

He must have been out for only a few seconds because the ding of shrapnel still ehoed in the passageways as Merrick shook his head, ears ringing. The photographer pushed himself up from the floor, then sank back with a screech as searing pain ran up his leg. Curling up on his side, Merrick grit his teeth until the pain receded to barely manageable levels. Having been an active boy, he knew what that pain meant: his lower leg was badly injured, possibly broken. And it was the same leg he had broken when he had not been much younger than…

Opening eyes he had not realized were closed, Merrick frantically tried to look for a sign of his two companions. A second later, Merrick recoiled and wished he had kept his eyelids tightly shut. Staring back at him were the dead, sightless eyes of Kostas Michaelides. The cook might have looked peaceful were it not for the fact that the top of his head had been sheared partway off by a large piece of metal shrapnel. Merrick tried not to gag as he realized that Mickey's head should not have been so twisted on his neck.

For what seemed like a long while, but could not have been too long, Merrick could only stare at the body of a man who had only just been muttering prayers next to him as they made their way through the ship. Then a figure knelt between the two, blocking Merrick's view of the corpse. It leaned over Mickey's body, its arm shaking slightly as it reached out. Merrick blinked and realized that the figure was Pedhin, who had been slightly behind the two older men. "Pedhin?" he rasped out, though why he spoke he could not comprehend, himself.

The boy stiffened, then turned towards Merrick, face pale and blank of all emotion. Dark eyes took in the photographer's situation, and Merrick's right arm was soon draped over his shoulder. "Come on," Pedhin said roughly.

Merrick's leg was in agony as the boy helped him stand, but he protested when Pedhin started moving them forward. "We can't leave him!" It just was not right to leave the man sprawled on the floor to be run over by any who came that way.

The photographer felt Pedhin stiffen and draw in a deep breath. "I can't carry two people," he answered softly, and Merrick fell silent at the pain in the boy's voice. And they remained silent as they limped all-too-slowly towards the main deck and the life it offered, leaving behind the dead in darkness.

.

Emerging onto the main deck brought little relief. The sounds of the injured they had been forced to pass as they escaped echoed behind them, and the chaos on deck was nearly overwhelming. It was in the hours before dawn, with only the first hint of light on the horizon, light quenched by black smoke billowing from the side of the _Pevensey Bay_. Somehow Pedhin and Merrick pushed their way past strewn debris and panicked men to get to one of the portside lifeboats.

Again Merrick felt Pedhin stiffen, but this time in relieved recognition as a familiar voice called to them. The listing deck played havoc on Merrick's leg, but they made it to Jones' side and the seaman helped relieve Pedhin of his burden, taking Merrick's left arm. It was agony as the two crewmen assisted the photographer into the lifeboat, and Merrick felt a wave of relief as he sat on one of the benches of the nearly-filled boat. That relief turned to icy shock when Jones' voice cried out, almost angrily, "What do you think you're _doing_?"

The seaman had grabbed the arm of Pedhin, who had turned away from the lifeboat. The boy looked back at his friend, his face stern. "There are wounded still below." Merrick's eyes widened. Pedhin intended to go _back_, even as the ship listed further into the waves? It seemed like he did, since the boy had already pulled his arm away and darted off, calling back to a shocked Jones: "Remember, make sure the civilians get to safety!"

"You _are _a civilian!" Jones shouted back, irate, but the seaman did not go after his friend. As far as Merrick knew, he was the only non-crewman aboard ship besides the ratings, and he also knew that the crew took seriously their given duties. Pedhin's duty had been to see to Merrick's safety and, even in the course of disregarding his _own_ safety, he had passed on his duty to Jones. And Jones knew and respected his friend enough to go against his personal wishes to fulfill that duty.

But Merrick wanted none of that. As the lifeboat filled and Jones and the others began lowering it, Merrick tried to stop them. "He's not back…you can't leavehim!" The crewmen seemed to ignore him, so he grabbed at Jones' arm. "He's your friend, he's just a kid, you can't just _leave _him, we have to…"

Jones whirled on the photographer, eyes blazing. "I _know!_" he shouted. "I _know _he's just a boy and I _know_ he's my friend, and I _hate _this, but we have to leave _now_ so just _shut up_!" Merrick reared back as much from the grief in the seaman's voice as the forcefulness of his words. Another crewman – a dark-skinned man named Ahmed – gently pulled Merrick away from Jones, letting the others continue their work in lowering the lifeboat. Merrick looked at Ahmed, looked at the others in the boat. Everyone looked pale in the light of the flickering fire that seemed to be spreading on deck. Everyone's faces held the same grief he had seen in Jones' face. And Merrick knew, somehow _knew_, that Pedhin would want every one of those men to get off the dying ship, even at his own expense. So Merrick bit back the beginnings of a sob and tried not to feel like he was condemning a child to death as the lifeboat hit water.

.

The crew on the lifeboat rowed hard and quick, but the waves were rough on the tiny craft. Their progress was slow, and the heat from the fire that now blazed on the ship could still be felt. Icy water sprayed the men, but they hardly felt it in their frantic desire to escape the drowning ship, get away from the fire that surely presaged a greater danger should it reach the cargo hold.

Merrick felt helpless. Others had taken the oars, leaving him with nothing to do but watch the ship slowly founder as its exposed propellers still worked in vain to move it forward, watch the figures of men still on board frantically trying to escape. And though perhaps it would seem incongruous, even heartless, Merrick turned to the one thing that he thought might keep him sane: the camera he still clutched in his hands.

*_Snap_*

Jones pulling on his oar, his expression grim and distraught.

*_Snap_*

The stern of the ship lifting from the sea, fire glinting off the massive, swirling, steel propeller.

*_Snap_*

The barely distinct figure of Pedhin struggling to help an injured man into one of the last lifeboats, against a background of flames.

*_Snap_*

The lifeboat lowering slowly, so slowly.

*_Sn-_*

Merrick nearly dropped his camera, and several of the men in his lifeboat cried out at what they were witnessing. Though still rowing steadily, many of the crew had continued to follow the progress of their fellows as the final lifeboat lowered. Now they could only watch helplessly as something went horribly wrong with the ropes and the entire boat, halfway to the sea, flipped over. Screaming men, many of them flung first against the hard steel of the hull, fell into the waves beneath. Waves that were all-too near a growing blanket of blazing oil that seeped from the drowning ship, all-too near the whirling, exposed propeller.

And Merrick could only stare in horror, helpless as he watched the men – men and one young boy – slip into the pounding, icy waters of the Atlantic.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

* * *

Lucy Pevensie wished with all her heart that Father had not helped Edmund join the British Merchant Navy. It was not just because she hated keeping it secret from Mum (by Father's nervous insistence). It was not just because the thought of Edmund in war, _this_ war, made her heart freeze with fear. These things were true, but at the moment Lucy was mostly wishing that Edmund was _here_ so she would not have to deal with Eustace Clarence Scrubb _alone_.

She continually tried to remember that her cousin was just a young boy, without the learned wisdom her brothers had gained in over a decade in Narnia. She tried to remember that she was a _queen_, not just a little girl stuck in Cambridge without her siblings, who were all off on adventures without her. She tried to remember…but if Eustace made _one more comment_ about how having her in the Scrubb household was a burden on him she would _show_ him how much she could make his life miserable.

Lucy sighed as she collapsed on her bed, letter from Susan in hand. Susan, who got to travel to America with their parents, went on about the parties she went to and the boys she had met, with a throwaway line informing Lucy that their stay had been extended thanks to the U-boats. Lucy winced at the casualness of that line; she was not sure Susan knew of Edmund enlistment – if their father had told her – but still it was perturbing to have Susan be so cavalier about the dangers that Edmund was facing in the Atlantic.

Laying the letter aside, Lucy got up and idly walked across the small room as if to distance herself from the disconcertment she felt at Susan's correspondence. Looking in the mirror, she brushed back some loose hair behind her ear. Lucy hated the inactivity that came with staying at her aunt and uncle's house. Other than chores, there was nothing for Lucy to do – if an activity had not been canceled due to the war, it was too expensive. Even if there _had _been available activities, Eustace would have likely followed her and ruined everything with his annoying attitude, as he had with Lucy's attempts at making friends in the neighborhood. Without friends, without diversions, without her siblings, all Lucy could do now was sit in her room and worry.

Worry about Susan and her parents, and if they would ever be able to make it safely home. Worry about Peter staying with the professor in London, which could be targeted by the Luftwaffe at any moment. And, most of all, worry about Edmund: brave, _stupid_ Edmund who had joined the _merchant navy, _of all things, when Lucy knew full well that the supply lines were the hardest hit, the most dangerous areas; that Edmund's ship, wherever it was, was likely to be targeted by an enemy who so clearly wished to starve Britain out of the war.

Looking at the tired face staring back at her in the mirror, Lucy frowned. "I _hate_ being the one left behind to wait and worry," she muttered. It was one of the reasons why, in Narnia, Lucy preferred to go to battle alongside her brothers – at least she could do_ something,_ even if just command the archers far from the front lines. Here, though, her brothers and even her sister were off on dangerous adventures while Lucy just waited. "I wish I were more like Susan," she sighed. Susan had been the one who usually waited and worried in Narnia, but Susan had an inner strength and outer poise that enabled her to handle the wait with a serenity that Lucy could never hope to emulate.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, you know."

Lucy closed her eyes and silently counted to ten to try and counter the annoyance that sprang up in her chest whenever she was in close proximity to her cousin. "Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked, half hopefully, half bitingly.

Eustace huffed and plopped down on her bed. "I can go wherever I want and do whatever I like. This is _my_ house; _you're_ just a guest."

Lucy turned and shot Eustace a dirty look. "I'm _family_." Family, not hired help, and certainly not a nursemaid for little brats who stole things and blamed it on others, as Eustace had oh-so-cheerfully done the day before.

"No one asked _me_ if I wanted cousins," retorted Eustace with his usual absurd arrogance.

Lucy decided her best bet was to ignore him and so she turned again, this time to look at the painting that hung on the far wall and the heart-breakingly Narnian ship that appeared in so small a part of the seascape. "Oh, Aslan, I miss you," came a whisper torn from her heart, as it had every time she looked at the picture.

Unfortunately, this time Eustace heard her. "Are you nattering on about that cat again? I can't _believe_ you have imaginary friends. It's a sign of an unhealthy mind."

Lucy whirled to face Eustace again, her temper rising to the fore. "Aslan is _not_ imaginary, you…you…_boy_." She would have said more, thought up a better insult, but the feel of sea-spray hitting the back of her head was entirely too distracting. Turning around, Lucy's eyes widened at the sight of water leaking, then pouring, out of the painting, at the sight of the sail of the painted ship fluttering in the wind as it rode painted, real waves.

"What's going on?" she heard Eustace shout behind her. "Stop it! Make it stop!"

"Oh, be quiet, Eustace!" Lucy snapped, not looking back at the flustered boy. Eustace howled for his mother, but Lucy grinned as water pooled around her ankles, soaking her woolen socks. The feel of magic hung in the salty spray, magic that could only mean one thing: Aslan was calling her back to Narnia.

Lucy had only a moment to think of Edmund, who should be here to go home as well but, as always, Eustace interrupted her deep thoughts. "I'll smash the thing!" he cried and began pulling the painting off the wall. Terrified that this would break the spell, Lucy pulled at Eustace's arm, yelling at him to get away. The end result was that Eustace tripped backwards over her foot and fell to the floor. He lost his hold on the painting, which sunk into rapidly rising water.

.

In fact, the water soon reached such a height that both children were treading water to keep their heads above it. Eustace, not much of a swimmer to begin with, panicked and made things worse as he tried to hold onto Lucy to push himself out of the waves. The resulting struggle, combined with one fierce pull of magic, dragged both of them under water. Lucy tried to swim to the surface, but she could only open her eyes a moment before the sting of salt forced her to close them again. However, Lucy had not been given the Eastern Sea as her personal dominion to not learn a few tricks from her sea-bound subjects.

She made use of those quickly returning, finely-honed instincts now to grab Eustace by the collar and pull him towards the surface. As they broke through, the younger boy sputtered and choked at her while Lucy took in their surroundings. They were floating in the middle of an ocean…and a ship that was no longer a painted image was nearly upon them.

Before Lucy could even shout to catch the crew's attention, two men were already diving from the deck and swimming towards the stranded children. Unfortunately, Lucy was distracted as Eustace once again nearly pushed her under in a panicked attempt to escape the sea. Despite being younger in age, Eustace was slightly taller than Lucy and his panic lent him enough strength that she could have ended up in dire straits had not muscular arms pulled Eustace away. With the aid of another pair of strong arms, Lucy surfaced, caught in the reassuring hold of the sailor.

A short beard scratched at her check as she steadied herself, and Lucy automatically turned around to face her rescuer. Though the beard distracted her for a moment, the warm, brown eyes were unmistakably familiar. "Caspian!"

It was indeed her friend and adopted brother, the present king of Narnia. A year had passed for Lucy since she had last seen him, and likely that, if not more, had passed for Caspian. Still, the Narnian king was just as quick to recognize the girl in his arms. Caspian's cry of "Lucy!" was delighted. "You've grown!"

Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed. "So have you," she countered, and gently tugged on his bewhiskered chin in emphasis.

Caspian returned the laugh, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that Lucy knew well. It was the look Peter and Edmund wore when there was not any immediate danger, but they still wanted to get their little sister to safety quickly, just in case. So Lucy was not surprised when Caspian politely, but firmly, insisted on pulling her towards the ship, where crewmen were already lowering a plank with which to lift them from the sea.

.

Lucy felt the weight of her Cambridge captivity begin to melt away as she was hauled from the water, Caspian's steadying arm around her. The sight that met her on the deck of the ship caused a grin to nearly split her face in two. While most of the sailors were human, Old Narnians were mingled throughout: here a minotaur helping his human comrades pull the ropes, there a faun lifting blankets from below deck. The uniforms were Narnian, yet with Telmarine influences, and the ship itself was suspiciously Archenlandish in design. Clearly Caspian's desire to unite his country and gain peace with their neighbors had been at least somewhat successful.

A warm blanket was slung across Lucy's shoulders, and she looked up at a grinning Caspian. "How on earth did you end up in the middle of the Narnian sea?" Ah, so they were in Narnian-controlled water; that was good.

"I have no idea," confessed Lucy with a matching smile. A thought struck her. "Then you didn't use Susan's horn like last time?"

Caspian shook his head. "No, everything has been going well in Narnia." Caspian wrapped an arm around Lucy's shoulders. "But whatever the reason, it is good to see you again, your majesty."

"Caspian…" Lucy gave him a stern look that was belied by a sparkle of humor in her eyes. "We're family, remember?"

If Caspian's smile could brighten even more with happiness, it did then. "Of course I remember. And speaking of family…" His head lifted and he looked back at where the crewmen were raising the wooden plank from the sea. Caspian only gave a sputtering Eustace a quick glance before frowning and looking at the men near the side of the ship. In answer to the king's silent question, the higher ranking crewman shook his head – there was no one else in the water.

Lucy could see worry replace joy in Caspian's face and she clasped the hand that still lay lightly on her shoulder. "Caspian," she said quietly to get his attention. Dark eyes looked down at her. "Caspian, Edmund wasn't with us when we were pulled into Narnia."

"Do you know if…?" Caspian trailed off as Lucy shook her head. His frown deepened – it was obvious that he was severely disappointed that the young king he considered a brother was not there, and Lucy could not help but feel that Caspian considered her a poor substitute. Her feelings must have shown because Caspian squeezed her shoulders again and brought the smile – a genuine one – back to his face. "At least you're here. You and…" The inquiry did not need to be spoken: after all, it was not a usual thing for a queen of old to rise from the ocean followed closely by a red-faced, scrawny boy who was presently flinging a Talking Mouse across the deck and screaming nearly incomprehensibly.

Lucy sighed. "Our cousin, Eustace Clarence Scrubb."

Caspian raised an eyebrow, not used to hearing such utter annoyance in Lucy's usually cheerful voice. He wasn't the only one to pick up on her tone. Reepicheep, for that was the Talking Mouse, bowed gallantly to the queen before looking back at a shaking Eustace with a speculative glance in his eyes. "My queen, if it is your wish, I would be honored if you allowed me the privilege of teaching this person a lesson in behaving as a kinsman of your royal majesty should." By the twitch of his tail, Reepicheep clearly meant for the lesson to be of a violent and probably painful sort.

Lucy was sorely tempted to grant Reepicheep this wish. However, the sight of a confused and panicked Eustace, yelling fearfully about talking rats, was enough to rekindle the dwindling pity in her heart. "Thank you, Reepicheep, but let's give him some time. Perhaps simply being in Narnia will help him." After all, Narnia had changed Edmund very much for the better. Lucy's kind heart had not been so severely worn down that she could not hope Eustace's lesson was less hard-won than Edmund's.

After a brief encounter with one of the minotaur crewmen left Eustace collapsed insensibly on the deck, Caspian decided to take charge of the situation, more for the sake of those in the crew who were not familiar with the queen of old. First, he made sure that Eustace was taken below deck to be cared for in the medical quarters. Then, a smile on his face, Caspian leapt up the stairs leading to the quarterdeck in order to better address the rest of the crew. "Gentlemen, it is my great honor to present to you, Lucy the Valiant, queen of Narnia's Golden Age."

Lucy blinked slightly, but dutifully accepted the genuflections of the crew. It was almost overwhelming; during the Golden Age she had rarely been singled out for admiration. While she never begrudged her siblings their share in the love and respect of their subjects, it was rather pleasant not to be overshadowed by Peter's magnificence, Susan's beauty, or Edmund's brilliance. She was Queen Lucy the Valiant… and she was home.

0000000000

Caspian, taking over mothering duties in the absence of her – their – other siblings, was quick to bustle Lucy towards his cabin. There were no women's clothes on boards, but the king had a few extra outfits that could be pinned and cinched to fit her until they reached the Lone Islands – apparently their destination – and find something more suitable. Lucy did not mind; she had often stolen her brothers' clothes for rough work, much to Susan's chagrin.

It was only when Caspian left the cabin to allow her to change in private that the magnitude of her situation hit Lucy. She was in Narnia! Ever since their last foray to this world, when they had fought to place Caspian on Narnia's throne, Lucy had anxiously awaited this moment of return. Yet now, instead of entering Narnia alongside Edmund as she had expected, she was here alone. No, worse than alone – she was with _Eustace_ of all people. Lucy bit her bottom lip as she did up the last button on her new shirt. This was not what she wanted when she had prayed nightly for Aslan to bring her back to Narnia. She wanted to be here with _Edmund_, not Eustace. She wanted her brother _here_, in the safety of a Narnian ship during what she suspected was a time of peace; she wanted him here, not off being shot at and torpedoed. Edmund could be in the middle of battle right now, in danger of his life, while she smiled and laughed and enjoyed Narnia.

As often happened when the thought of her brother in war – _that_ war – intruded, tears pricked at the corner of Lucy's eyes. She sat down on the bed, gripping the coverlet with hands that went white from the pressure as she struggled to push back the tears. Deep breaths helped, and by the time an impatient knock on the door sounded Lucy was almost back to herself. "Lucy?" Caspian's voice echoed through the wooden door. "Is everything all right? Do you need anything?"

_My brother_, whimpered a soft, inner voice, but Lucy shook her head. After all, she had a brother standing just outside. "I'm done; you can come in!"

Caspian entered the cabin. "You look more comfortable," he said with a smile.

Lucy brought her own smile to the fore as she stood. "Yes, well, Narnian clothes have always been more comfortable to wear."

"I agree," Caspian's eyes sparkled with humor, "and considering Edmund left specific written instructions on the importance of nice, comfortable clothes, finding Narnian seamstresses was one of my first acts as king after you returned to your own world." The humor quickly fled Caspian's eyes then, and Lucy knew he had caught the dark look on her face at the mention of Edmund. "Lucy, what's wro…"

"I see you brought Susan's horn," Lucy commented in order to forestall Caspian's question.

The king frowned, but allowed the diversion. "Yes. I brought along all the gifts. Including…" Caspian turned and quickly opened one of the glass cabinets in the room. Lucy's eyes lit up when Caspian opened a carved, wooden box to reveal her cordial and dagger. Caspian proffered the box. "Take up your own, my queen."

Lucy automatically reached for her gifts, but stopped and lowered her hands. "They're yours now, Caspian. All the gifts – we left them to you as king of Narnia."

Caspian did not withdraw the box, but smiled kindly. "They will always first be yours. But if you insist on refusing to reclaim them as your own, then I must insist that you at least bear these," he again held forth the box with dagger and cordial, "for as long as we journey. After all, you are most familiar with them, and it would be foolish to deny an expert her tools."

The reasoning was sound and, since Lucy was not keen to argue, she graciously accepted his offer. The belt settled perfectly around her hips, the weight of cordial and dagger both familiar and comforting. Her left thumb idly smoothed the top of the lion-head pommel, a path it had followed so many times in the past as Lucy had silently prayed.

"Lucy?" The young queen looked up at Caspian. The king's frown had returned, and she braced herself for the question she knew was coming, the question she could put off no longer: "Lucy, where is Edmund?" The fact that she unconsciously tightened her grip on her dagger did not go unnoticed and Caspian eyes widened. "What happened? What has he done?"

Lucy could have laughed; though he had known Edmund for only a few months, Caspian had well learned her brother's propensity for getting himself into trouble. But she did not laugh. Instead, she answered Caspian in a bitter tone that even surprised her. "He joined the merchant navy." In the confused silence that followed, Lucy remembered that Caspian did not know the horrible reality behind her words, didn't know about the U-boats, the machine guns, the bombs. Caspian knew only the navies he encountered as king, the navy he had built himself according to what the minotaur, Tavros, had mentioned on deck. Lucy sat heavily in one of the chairs near the window. How to explain this?

It was an impossible task, and so Lucy decided she could only explain what Caspian _could_ understand. "Caspian, our country in that world, England, is at war. Edmund went to _war_ – a different kind of war than those in Narnia, too different to really describe. And he is there alone."

"Peter…"

"Peter is studying for university, now. Though I am sure it took all of Edmund's powers of persuasion to keep Peter from joining him once he learned what Edmund did."

Caspian, though he did not know the horrors of modern warfare, could see the fear Lucy held for one brother, the relief – and guilt for that relief – she felt for the fact that her other brother was not in the same danger. Caspian took the chair across from Lucy, looking her straight in the eye. "Well, I can't say I am surprised that Ed would do something foolhardy. It seems to be a part of his very nature." That elicited a small smile from Lucy, for it was indeed true. Caspian took her hands in his. "Lucy, do not despair that you have not yet seen your brother in Narnia. Whether now, or in weeks and months, he will come. We will just trust that Aslan will keep his word, and bring Edmund home to us."

Both king and queen glanced over at the engraving of the Lion that hung above Susan's horn. Lucy breathed in deeply as she looked at the image, the face lit by beams of sunlight, and she almost thought she smelled the otherworldly fragrance that always flowed from Aslan's mane. "You're right, Caspian. We arrived in Narnia at different times and places when we were last here. We will trust Aslan."

Caspian squeezed her hands, then stood. "Agreed. And now, I think it's time to tell you all that has happened these past three years."

.

Lucy let Caspian help her up, her heart lighter. It seemed Caspian had grown in more ways that just facial hair. He stood with a more confident air, confidence that stemmed as much from faith in Aslan as faith in his own abilities. Lucy followed Caspian to the stern cabin, where he had maps and pictures already spread out across a desk.

Caspian pulled out the map that showed all of Narnia and its surrounding environs, though Lucy noted happily that a detailed city plan of a rebuilt Cair Paravel lay under it. At the moment, though, she was more interested in what Caspian had to say. "The second year after my coronation, we were able to placate the northern giants who were beginning to harass our border. I think it actually took longer to get them to understand the terms of the peace accord than to fight the actual war." Lucy could easily believe that, remembering Peter's frustration the last few years of their own reign. "And last year – that's nearly three years after your departure – Narnia and Archenland defeated the Tisroc's army in the Desert of Ram, and then his navy in the Bight of Calormen."

"You're allied with Archenland, then?" Memories of King Lune, his twin sons, and the Defense of Anvard filled Lucy's mind at Caspian's tale.

Caspian nodded. "Yes, though it took some doing to convince King Dain that we were Narnians, not Telmarines. I don't think he trusted us until his daughter, Crown Princess Disa, threated to run away to Narnia to be with her true love should he not agree to an alliance."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at Caspian's satisfied smirk. "And would that true love be the King of Narnia?"

She was answered with a laugh. "Hardly. She thought I squinted too much. No, Princess Disa fell in love with one of our young Narnian nobles – a third son of a lesser lord. They are quite happily planning their wedding in Anvard, last I heard, while Dain is reconciling himself to a son-in-law of Telmarine blood. Regardless, Archenland is a good ally; they were integral in helping us build our navy. Including the _Dawn Treader_." Caspian fondly patted the wall next to him. The motion brought Lucy's attention to the drawings of seven men that were tacked to that wall.

"Who are they?" she asked, motioning to the drawings.

Caspian's countenance grew serious as he turned to half-face the drawings. "About ten years ago, after he murdered my father, Miraz tried to then kill my father's closest friends and supporters." A scowl darkened his face. "He succeeded in part. But the seven lords who were closest to my father escaped, we believe sailing to the Lone Islands. There has been no word from them since." Caspian turned back to fully face Lucy, looking down at the map which showed the eastern-most islands. As he stood there, Lucy thought he looked ever so much the determined king. "That is our quest and my duty: to find the seven lords, whether they are alive or dead."

Lucy nodded her understanding. As king, Caspian had a responsibility to at least learn the fate of his lost subjects. Looking at the map, though, her eye was, as ever, drawn to the empty expanse beyond the Lone Islands. "I have always wondered what lay east of the Lone Islands. In our time, we were never able to make an expedition beyond our island holdings, though Edmund and I, at least, dearly wished to."

Caspian ginned at her musings. "I admit, it intrigues me as well." There was a look in his eyes that made Lucy think that there was a particular reason behind his desire, but the king did not elaborate. "Not even the men of Archenland, nor of Galma and Terebinthia, know what lies beyond the Lone Islands."

"Those are uncharted waters," came a new voice and the Narnian king and queen looked up as the captain, whom Caspian had introduced as Drinian, entered the room, "which hold things you can barely imagine. Sailors and fishermen tell tales of sea serpents and the like."

Caspian rolled his eyes, but Lucy shivered, glad at least for the moment that Edmund was not present. Her brother's experience with what the mermaids had claimed was an infant sea serpent had left the Just King with a certain aversion to the creatures. Apparently Edmund had not told Caspian that particular story, though, because the new king only told Captain Drinian to stop telling tall tales, and to tell them what he came into the cabin for.

"Just reporting that we continue to make good time, and should reach the Lone Islands in five days." Drinian's smile was crooked, but Lucy thought the man – A Terebinthian by his accent – to be charming, in his own way. Particularly when he added: "Her majesty's kinsman has been seen to. Is his majesty sure he wants to take the bunk near the boy?" By his tone, Drinian seemed to think Caspian was off his rocker to want to be near Eustace. Lucy rather agreed.

But Caspian just shrugged. "He is the queen's cousin and thus mine. With Lucy staying in my cabin, he should have kin present to watch over him. And there should still be room in that berth should we come across King Edmund on our journey."

Lucy thought this a very kind and kingly gesture. Even if she knew Caspian would come to rue his decision within the day.

0000000000

It took longer than a day, but only because Eustace was unconscious for most of the following 24 hours. After he gained at least a passable sea-stomach, Eustace quickly showed the reason that sweet, kind Queen Lucy kept away from her cousin as much as possible: he complained. Incessantly. Not an hour went by that Caspian did not hear Eustace haranguing someone about something. He complained that Caspian and the Narnians had kidnapped him. He complained that the _Dawn Treader_ was too cramped, too small, that she smelled. He complained that there wasn't enough food, that the food was awful, that the water tasted funny. He did _not_ complain about Lucy getting her own cabin, at least not after Reepicheep threatened him for wishing to deny the comfort and privacy which was the right of a lady.

Frankly, Caspian could not understand how this child was in any way related to the Kings and Queens of Old (and he was – Caspian had asked Lucy who, however much she wished to, could not deny the blood relation). Caspian was sure that if they took any longer to reach the Lone Islands he would be driven quite mad. Reepicheep, in fact, was his greatest chance of retaining his sanity. The Mouse had joined his king in his attempt to watch over young Eustace, and seemed to handle the boy's attitude with a much better spirit. However, that did not stop Reepicheep from occasionally seeking permission to toss the offending Eustace overboard. A Mouse, however noble, can only take so many demands to be taken to someone called the British Consul.

It was with great relief for everyone when the Lone Islands were spotted on the horizon; King Caspian made the decision to go ashore as evening fell. After discussing the options with Lucy, Caspian ordered two longboats made ready. As the chosen party rowed the boats to shore, Reepicheep scrambled up to Caspian who sat at the bow of the lead longboat, on the far side from Lucy and Eustace who were astern, with Lucy manning the rudder. "Your majesty," said Reepicheep, softly enough so as not to be heard over the sound of the oars, "not to be impertinent, but might I inquire as to the reason you have brought young Eustace along? We do not know what we might find ashore, whether friend or foe. Surely one so inexperienced should be kept safely aboard ship."

Caspian certainly understood Reepicheep's reasoning. The Lone Islands had not had contact with Narnia since near the beginning of the reign of the Telmarines; it was possible they no longer accepted Narnia's authority over the islands, and it could even be that the Lone Islanders would be openly hostile to the Narnian king. Reepicheep, one of his most faithful knights, deserved to know why Caspian would bring Eustace into what could end up as a war zone. "Eustace may be young, but he is about the age Queen Lucy and King Edmund were when they began their reign with High King Peter and Queen Susan. Edmund once told me that there was something in Narnia's air that seemed to affect the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve from their world, something that allowed them to become the kings and queens of Narnia's Golden Age." Caspian paused to collect his thoughts, and then continued. "I don't know why Aslan brought Eustace here when He brought Lucy. But Eustace must be here for a reason, and he deserves a chance to learn and grow as his cousins did." Caspian then looked slightly sheepish. "Plus, I'm not sure I could trust the crew not to truss him up in the crow's nest while we're gone."

Reepicheep chuckled, and both knight and king looked towards the fore as the harbor of Narrowhaven, capital of the Lone Islands on the main island of Doorn, drew closer. Caspian felt a thrill of anticipation and wariness – it seemed as though this was truly the start of their journey. There was something in the air, something magical, and Caspian had the feeling that an adventure greater than he ever expected was about to begin.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

It wasn't being pulled further under the choppy water that worried Edmund – after all, he could clearly feel the magic and knew instinctively that Aslan was calling him home to Narnia. What worried him was the fact that his memories of the last few minutes were faded and fuzzy, that his vision was blurry, and that he was disoriented. He had banged his head – somehow – and the force of the blow had caused his thoughts to mix in confusion, making it harder to concentrate on swimming. He had a vague memory that there had been others around him, men he was responsible for, and he idly wondered, even as he struggled to swim to the surface, if they were presently thinking he had been drowned.

Edmund knew, in the back of his muddled mind, that his disappearance would likely be only the briefest of moments to anyone in his world, if this journey to Narnia was anything like the others. Anyone who witnessed it would only assume the waves had pulled him under for a moment, and that his reappearance would be due to his lifejacket. Yet there was something else, some dark feeling in his gut that screamed at Aslan for pulling him away _now_; now, when he _knew_, even if he couldn't _remember_, that something was happening, something important for him and his men that he might _miss_. The magic pulled him further into the waves, though, and Edmund could only follow it as the water grew warmer and clearer.

His lungs were burning as he struggled to find the surface, any surface, in any world. The feel of magic receded, but Edmund barely noticed as he struggled to right himself. Opening his eyes despite the bitter sting of salt water, he thought he could see the gleam of sunlight and began swimming toward it, desperately hoping for sky and air, thankful for the floating pull of his lifejacket.

The hope he felt at seeing the sun turned to despair as he felt more magic, a gasp of cruel magic, wrap around his ankle and tug him back. Edmund struggled, but it was a vain flail, too impeded by his throbbing head, his exhaustion, and his air-starved lungs to do any good. As his vision blackened, Edmund's heart nearly froze in his burning chest at the sight of a large, yellow-green eye that seemed culled straight from his memories. The panic, which the eye and the helplessness of his situation caused, was no match for the frustrated demands of his tortured lungs and Edmund was helpless to fight against the oncoming darkness.

At the end of his endurance, Edmund barely felt the hands that grabbed him by his shoulders, or feel the magic release its terrible hold. He had a vague sense of movement, of the darkness lightening, and when his lungs finally revolted and began drawing for breath, it took a moment for him to realize that he was breathing air, not water. Somehow, hands were holding him steady on the surface of calm waters.

Curiously, despite being held by strange hands in an unknown sea, Edmund was not frightened. The hands helped him glide through the water, and a soft, kind voice prodded him towards greater consciousness. No, not _a_ voice…two voices, two watery, feminine voices asking him to wake. Edmund's innate chivalry revolted against ignoring a lady's request, and so he forced himself to open his eyes and face his rescuers.

.

Two sea-naiads, one on either side, held him steady in the water, a task which would not be arduous for beings who were as connected to their surroundings as all naiads were to their watery homes. The naiad on his right was young, barely out of girlhood, and the resemblance between the two was such that Edmund guessed the other naiad was her mother. His conjecture was confirmed when the elder naiad, seeing him awake, began introductions. "Greetings. I am Thalsa, and this is my daughter, Amphra."

"We saved you from drowning," chirped Amphra, her excitement suggesting that this was the first great adventure in her young life.

Edmund's mind, while still muddled, recalled enough that he knew he had to warn the ladies. "It was pulling me down. I saw an eye…" He knew he wasn't making much sense, but Thalsa, at least, understood his meaning: the near-drowning wasn't an accident.

Thalsa pursed her lips and began moving them through the waves at a faster pace, startling Amphra who rushed to keep up with her mother. Still, the girl was not too upset by this, and her curiosity remained piqued by the human. "What is your name?"

"Edmund," the king answered without much thought.

Amphra's eyes widened. "Like King Edmund the Just?" He only nodded in response, wincing as the movement jarred his head.

Neither naiad, however, seemed to take this to mean that he was claiming to _be_ King Edmund. "A good Narnian name, then," commented Thalsa. "No slave trader would dare use the name of the Just King, even in deception," she added, almost to herself.

Her words, nonetheless, cut through the fog engulfing Edmund's thoughts. "Slave traders! In Narnian waters?" he exclaimed. Even Lord Miraz had refused Calormene slave traders entrance to Narnian lands. Then again, the Telmarines were not a sea-faring race, and perhaps Calormen had taken advantage of this. At least, Edmund assumed Calormen was responsible – surely Narnia had not fallen so far, no matter how many years or centuries had passed since Edmund had last set foot there.

Thalsa put those fears to rest. "I have seen no Narnian ship in my lifetime, nor have they been seen in the lives of many of my forebears. Calormen ships sail with silver to the Lone Islands and return with slaves in their dark holds."

"The Lone Islands?" Edmund knew that the Telmarines had ceased communicating with Narnia's island holdings, but the laws of Narnia should still hold there if the Lords of the Islands still held true to Aslan.

"The governor is no friend to Narnia," warned Thalsa. "We take you there only out of necessity; humans do not last long in our waters, and you must get to safety before the green mist or…"

She trailed off, leaving Edmund with a confusing half-answer. "What green mist? What…?"

"Slave ship!" hissed Thalsa, and Amphra let out a watery gasp. "Quickly, we must get you to shore before we are spotted." Edmund could only agree – these naiads were no warriors and he would not risk their lives by arguing with Thalsa's decision. Indeed, naiads were notorious for their strong wills, and if Thalsa was determined to swim him to the Lone Islands, than urging them to leave him and flee would just cause vain hesitation and bring the naiads to further danger.

Being so low in the waves, and with his vision still slightly blurred, Edmund could not see their destination until they were nearly there. Relief swept over him as his boots touched the sea floor, though Amphra and Thalsa had to continue steadying him until they reached water too shallow for the sea-naiads. Knees touching ground, Edmund was able to hold himself above the waterline and turn slowly to face his rescuers. "My ladies, you have my deepest thanks for saving my life," he said in a courtly tone that made Amphra blush and duck her head. "I am forever in your debt. Ask, and it will be given, should it be in my power."

Amphra looked intrigued, but Thalsa halted her daughter's speech with a smooth motion of her hand. The elder naiad met Edmund's gaze, her eyes shining like liquid steel and filled with sad understanding. "Remember us to Aslan," Thalsa asked simply, her words shocking Amphra for some reason, "and be not afraid." Thalsa began moving out to sea, Amphra reluctantly following. Looking, for a moment, like a queen of the ocean, Thalsa raised her hand in a motion that was as much benediction as farewell. "May your memory be eternal, my king," was her final call before the sea-naiads slipped away from sight, merging with the waves of their home.

Edmund stared out a long moment to where his rescuers had disappeared, his heart twisting strangely at the words that seemed to hang in the air. He did not have long to sit in contemplation; the slave ship was coming near the shore, and Edmund knew he had to leave before they arrived. Moving as quickly as possible in his injured and waterlogged state, Edmund made his way into the rocky hills of the island. Which of the Lone Islands he was on was a mystery. However, by the shallow curve of the shoreline, he guessed he was on Doorn, the largest and most populous of the Islands.

His theory was confirmed when he moved around a particularly large rock and found himself in a maze of cliffs and gullies. Surely this was the Labyrinth of Froll, near the east end of Doorn. The island might be over a millennium older, but only Doorn had the topography that would lead to something like this.

Edmund glanced behind him and sighed. He did not hear anything, but he had to assume the slave traders had seen him on the shore…and Edmund reluctantly had to admit that he stood a better chance against even a changed Labyrinth than against armed slavers. So, taking a deep breath and bracing himself against the ensuing spike of pain in his head, King Edmund the Just entered the Labyrinth of Froll for the first time in over a thousand years. He hoped this attempt would go better than the last.

0000000000

Edmund walked until the sun rose high and bright. While it seemed to be only early summer here, the heat and glare was more than Edmund, in his present state, could handle. Feeling more exhausted and ill than he had in a long time, a feeling that was amplified by his burgeoning and unquenchable hunger and thirst, the young king crawled beneath one of the large, jutting rocks. "Never going to kid Peter about it again," he muttered dryly to himself as he curled away from the sun that threatened to blister his cursedly fair skin. Still, at least Edmund was not wasting away in the Labyrinth because he had been mistaken for a demon, beaten, and left to wander lost until dehydration took him. But then again, Peter had been declared Emperor of the Lone Islands by a horrified and contrite populace after his rescue – Edmund had a feeling he might have to organize a rebellion to get this governor to recognize Narnian authority.

Sighing, Edmund shifted until he was vaguely comfortable lying against a sloped patch of softish earth. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for an entire week, but his mind and his heart could not settle enough for his body to drag them to unconsciousness. His mind feared the men who would fain sell him to a Calormen Tarkhaan, but it was even more distracted by the pain radiating from his head and by trying to create some sort of logical plan to escape this place for Narnia and, he hoped, the friendship of Caspian, his brother in the eyes of Aslan.

His heart was torn between his joy at being in Narnia and the grief and fear he felt for those in the cold waters of the North Atlantic, for he now remembered that much at least.

Edmund gingerly untied the black, knotted rope from around his left wrist. It had yet to dry as had the rest of him, and Edmund almost thought he felt oil as well as water dripping from the wool. The sweet scent of some foreign spice seemed to emanate from the oil, though surely that was just his imagination, a hallucination brought about by dehydration and pain. But the smell and feel of the rope only served to remind Edmund of its previous owner.

Hand tightening around the rope, Edmund pushed away the memory of Mickey's effervescent smile turning to blood. In that death, at least, Edmund could not blame himself, even if he still felt the guilt. The torpedo had hit as it willed, they had been standing where they were, and no amount of foreknowledge had been possible, no time to try and save his friend. No, Edmund was a soldier and could know full well if there had been any action he could have taken to prevent the cook's death, and there had been nothing.

And so Edmund simply mourned the loss of his friend and the loss of so many others, as he hid from the heat of Narnia's blazing sun.

_00000000000000_

_Pedhin_

_Noise, the sounds of the sea, shouted orders. A low voice._

_A tone of concern. …must leave_

_Death has no pity for age or love._

_A smile. …know better than most: a moment can hold a lifetime._

_Confusion and fear. Did he know? _

_Take this. A refusal._

_I have already seen the light_

_Use it_

…_find the way._

_An inescapable command. A smile._

_An explosion _

_Death_

.

The sun was low in the sky when Edmund opened his eyes and realized he had fallen asleep, dreaming the memory. While it might not have been the most intelligent course of action, considering his situation, the short rest had helped. His head still ached, as did most of the muscles in his body, but his thoughts were clearer, and at least some of his energy had returned.

It was time to decide on a course of action other than just "get away from the slavers". He was stuck in the middle of a natural labyrinth on an island that was not friendly with mainland Narnia. In his day, the eastern side of Doorn had been a stronghold of lords who held a devout faith in Aslan, influenced, it was presumed, by the land's continual view of the sea over which the Great Lion came. If even one of the eastern shrines, however small, still remained faithful then Edmund would be able to find help.

Heading in any direction was difficult in the Labyrinth of Froll; heading directly east was as liable to move you westward as anywhere else. If the topography had not changed too much, Edmund needed to first head north-west and then straight south before changing his course to where he wanted to go. With no one, thankfully, in sight, Edmund started off again, hoping to at least make it most of the way out of the Labyrinth before it got too dark.

Twilight was just beginning to fall as Edmund finally turned east. So far, nothing had fallen amiss. Perhaps this trip through the Labyrinth would not…

.

It did not seem fair that Edmund had not even finished thinking that hopeful thought when it was all dashed to pieces by a frightened shout. A child's shout. And Edmund, king and knight, could not ignore a cry for help, no matter that his only weapon was a short knife that had been a Christmas gift from Peter. Following the sound, Edmund crept around one of the myriad rock formations to scout out the situation.

Anger welled up at the sight. A young boy, maybe seven years old, was surrounded by a band of men who were threatening the child with swords and rope – slavers. One of the men had grabbed the boy, who vainly struggled to escape. Terrified screams of "Let go, let go!" spurred Edmund into action. It helped, of course, that none of the slavers were expecting him to leap from behind the rock and use his knife to stab the man holding the boy in his lower arm while, in almost the same movement, removing the slaver's sword from its scabbard.

Howling, the injured slaver let go of his captive, who fell hard against the ground. Edmund quickly pulled the boy to his feet and pushed him towards the path behind them. "Come on, run!" Bewildered as the boy must have been by his timely rescue, he quickly regained his senses and dashed away. Edmund was close on his heels, pausing only when the nearest slaver caught on to what was happening and slashed his sword at him. Since the object was to escape, not embroil himself in battle, Edmund quickly dispatched his attacker and followed after the fleeing child, not waiting for the other slavers to get over their astonishment and move against him.

Unfortunately, the slavers were not long stunned and were soon chasing after their escaped captive and the knight who had let loose their prey. Really, the fugitives' only advantage was that the boy was apparently a native of the area and moved through the Labyrinth with confidence and ease. But no amount of confidence can make a child run faster than he is able, and Edmund knew they would not make it through the Labyrinth before their pursuers were upon them. If he could…there! The Heilin Gate, a thin passage that was likely still the only way through these thick rocks at the eastern end of the Labyrinth. Edmund stopped at the Gate, readying himself at the pass for the slavers who would be on him in a moment.

"What are you doing?" cried the boy from behind him.

"Go, run!" And, remembering how little boys did not always do what they are told, Edmund added, "I need you to get help and you can make it through better than me!" A charge set, the boy returned to his flight, and the slavers arrived.

Eleven of them stood in a line before Edmund – now cautious of this stranger who was ready to take on all of them without a sign of fear. The leader, a large, bearded Calormene, spoke. "You cost me my property, boy."

Edmund's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword, an unfamiliar scimitar. "A child is not property."

A foul smile spread across the leader's face. "Lovely barbarian sentiment. Of course, completely wrong, but no matter. I think you will fetch a better price than that scrawny pup."

"I am a knight of Narnia," Edmund warned them in response, loudly and boldly. "You have transgressed Narnia's laws and the laws of Aslan, but I will show mercy if you leave and renounce your foul ways." The Just King was not surprised when the men only laughed at his seemingly absurd statement. The slavers did not even deem his words of a reply, they simply attacked. Warning given, Edmund stood alone…and fought back.

That his mind was already in the mindset of war, however different a war, made it simpler for Edmund to fall back into his Narnian abilities. He also had the advantage of not having to hold back like the slavers, who wanted to capture him alive and relatively unharmed. Still, they made up for these disadvantages with numbers and strength, and they were familiar with their weapons, unlike Edmund with the borrowed scimitar. Edmund knew he really did not stand much of a chance; he could only hope that the boy had escaped and perhaps found someone to help, someone not yet cowed by the slave trade that had infested the Lone Islands.

With flagging strength, Edmund threw his energy behind attacking the leader, who had decided his men were taking too long and had joined in with a cruel smile. At the height of his abilities Edmund could have easily dissected him, but now he was young, out of practice, and still recovering from injury and exhaustion. He needed to take the leader down, and quickly, but he only managed to slice a good chunk of flesh out of the man's arm. The leader shouted and his eyes turned black with anger. And, if the vigor with which the man resumed his attack was any indication, Edmund did not think he was as interested in taking him captive as he had been before. Time was running out.

Time and situation were both against him. He had been forced away from the mouth of the Heilin Gate, so instead of being able to take on one or two men at a time in the narrow space, Edmund was completely surrounded. A foot kicked into his side and he stumbled, barely escaping two sword blows as he twisted away. Unfortunately, he twisted himself too close to another slaver, who slammed the hilt of his sword against the side of Edmund's head, right near where he was already wounded.

Pain exploded and Edmund could barely block another strike as black spots danced in front of his eyes. His vision had not even cleared when another kick caught his stomach and he went down – breath lost, head spinning, weapon dropped. He was helpless, defeated, and one swing of the sword would finish him off. Despite his best efforts, the blow to his head and the loss of breath combined to bring unconsciousness to the fore. He saw a flash of silver, heard a dim whistle in the distance, and fell into blackness, knowing he would either wake up in chains, or not wake up at all.

0000000000

It was a surprise, then, when Edmund blinked his eyes open groggily to the sight of a lovely ceiling fresco of white and red geometric designs. He was lying on a soft mattress, under a red coverlet that was a bit warm for his taste. "Sir knight?" Edmund blinked again and the face of a young man came into view. "Can you speak, sir?"

Realizing that the young man was speaking to him, Edmund replied, his voice rough and cobwebbed. "Where'm I?"

The man smiled. "You are in the keep of Fa Linón, sir, under the protection of Lady Gwai." Then the young man moved out of Edmund's line of sight. "I must get Healer Resh," he said before he was gone, in a swish that sounded like the robes of an apprentice healer to Edmund's ears.

The fact that he could recognize the specific sound of a healer's robe was probably a bad thing.

"So, are you really awake this time?"

Edmund slowly turned his head to the left, but the expected pain didn't come; he must have been given a good pain reliever. Focusing his vision, Edmund saw that the boy he had rescued was sitting in a chair by his bedside. "Are you alright?" he croaked in answer.

The boy frowned. "I'm fine. You're the one who got hurt." Before Edmund could respond, the boy had changed course. "I'm Winth. What's your name?"

"I'm Ed…" he was cut off when a very large, rosy-cheeked older woman wearing the robes of a healer barged loudly into the room.

"Ah!" her voice boomed, "Our young friend is awake, is he?" The look in her eyes was almost predatory and the Just King reflexively gulped.

Edmund had never had a more bewildering examination, and he answered all the healer's questions more quickly and truthfully than he even had for his calm, sweet little sister – this woman was rather terrifying, and Edmund wondered if she had giant blood in her. He certainly felt like he was being prepared for the night's feast.

Finally, the healer seemed to have all the information she needed, so she pinched both Edmund and Winth's cheeks and left the room. Silence rushed back in, having fled at the very presence of the healer, and Edmund turned again to Winth, who had apparently been trying to escape by melting back into the chair. "What…was that?"

Winth was not the one who answered. "That was Healer Resh," came a feminine voice. Edmund looked up to where another woman, hair streaked with grey, stood in the doorway. She was thin and drawn, but held herself with a noble calm born from years of practice and tribulations. The woman smiled and came to sit in the chair next to Winth. "I am Lady Gwai of Fa Linón. Please excuse my healer her manner – she knows her art well, and I wished only the best for the knight who saved my son."

Edmund pushed himself up so that he was sitting against the headboard; then he bowed as best he could. "My lady, I thank you for your hospitality. And it was my honor and duty to help your son; I am glad he is well." He decided not to expand on the fact that he was not merely a knight, at least until he got a better hold on the situation and the people involved. "I am Sir Edmund of Narnia," he introduced himself. The names of the Four Sovereigns had been extremely popular on the Lone Islands in his time, and if Lady Gwai assumed he was named for a several-times great-grandfather, he would not correct her.

Indeed, Lady Gwai seemed less concerned with his name than his country. In fact, she almost seemed scared, and she automatically shifted into a defensive posture. "Does the Lord Protector have an interest in the Lone Islands, then?"

Edmund frowned. "The Lord Protector?" That had been the title of…

"Lord Miraz," elaborated Lady Gwai, who probably assumed he was still unsteady from his bout of unconsciousness. "He has not held an interest in Island affairs since his ascension as Caspian X's regent ten years ago."

Ten years. Edmund had learned the basic chronology of the fall of Caspian IX to the fall of Miraz when he had last been in Narnia which, after a quick calculation, had been about three years previous. And this, of course, meant… "Miraz no longer rules Narnia. King Caspian X defeated him in battle, and brought peace between the Telmarines and the Old Narnians." He might only have seen the first few days of Caspian's reign, but he had faith that his friend had continued on the right path, and was still ruling Narnia wisely.

The news of Miraz's defeat certainly surprised the lady of the house. "Then you are one of King Caspian's retainers?"

Her voice was tinged with a wobbly hope, and Edmund worded his answer carefully. "I serve Aslan and His appointed rulers."

At Aslan's name, the eyes of both Lady Gwai and Winth widened and Winth, who had been squirming in his chair, sat up straight and still. Gwai's gaze was piercing. "It has been long since Narnians could openly serve Aslan in their own land. There were rumors, however, that Aslan was seen heading west toward the mainland, three years ago."

Edmund nodded. "He restored Narnia to the Narnians, and King Caspian rules a combined people under Aslan and the High King."

"This news has long been looked for in the Lone Islands," said Gwai, her eyes sad despite her words. "Would that my husband was here, it would be his greatest joy."

Winth looked down at his feet and Edmund asked, "May I inquire as to who your husband is?"

There was a fond, sad love in Gwai's face when she answered: "He is Lord Bern of Narnia."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_A bit shorter than the other chapters, but it sets quite a bit up for the next few chapters._

* * *

Edmund remembered Caspian mentioning Lord Bern among those friends of Caspian IX who had fled Miraz after the king's death. His inquiries to Lady Gwai as to the whereabouts of Bern and the other lords led to a lengthy story. The lady of Fa Linón told him how seven lords had landed on the Lone Islands after Miraz took over Narnia. How she and Bern had married. How a strange, green mist had begun devouring ships closer and closer to the islands, and how eight years previously the other six lords had sailed east to find its source. How Bern had been left behind with a vow to follow after the birth of his child, and how, soon after, Governor Gumpas began using his power to prevent any enemies of his rule from sailing. Gwai told Edmund how Bern worked to protect his land and adopted people from the governor and the slavers, and how last year the lord had been imprisoned for his efforts.

It was a frustrating tale to hear. The Lone Islanders were helpless, their swords and other weapons confiscated by the governor. Apparently Edmund's own rescue had been accomplished by a few of Gwai's loyal men with homemade – and illegal – bows and arrows, of which the governor was now likely aware. Even the little resistance of the people was being starved out, as the once vibrant fishing trade dried up from fear of the green mist which lurked just beyond the horizon, and which was ignored by government policy. The imprisonment of Bern had been the last straw, and the other landowners of the Lone Islands would not resist the governor without his leadership.

"If I could send word to King Caspian," Edmund began after Lady Gwai finished her tale, "he would certainly bring aid to the Islands."

Gwai shook her head. "The governor controls the ships, and the Sea Creatures do not often dare come near shore."

And even if he set sail now, Caspian may not be in time to protect Lady Gwai from retribution for the illegal weapons her men used to save him. Edmund nodded his understanding. "Well, then, we'll have to figure out another way to free the Islands. Might I assume some of the other lords and landowners have hidden weapons as well?"

"Commander Turion and the outlaws do," piped up Winth, before he was shushed by his mother.

"Several do," admitted Gwai, "but it will be near impossible to convince them to rise against Gumpas. We all have a very tenuous hold on our freedom, and without Bern to spur them on I can think only Commander Turion would contribute anything – he already fights the slavers from his base somewhere in the western part of the Labyrinth.

"With his help, how many men – fighting men – could we raise?" asked Edmund, still the commanding general despite being confined to bedclothes.

Lady Gwai's answer was not encouraging. "Twenty to twenty-five at most. Certainly not enough to go against the governor's guards _and_ the Calormene slave traders. Bern had been trying to convince the other lords that, if they moved against Gumpas, the citizens of Doorn would rise up and follow them. He had just brought them around when he was imprisoned. Now only Fa Linón is left; the others fell back to cowardice."

Her tone was bitter, but Edmund was not surprised. It must have been a hard struggle for the lady to continue defying a tyrant while not knowing her husband's fate. Edmund admired her fortitude – it rather reminded him of Susan, actually – and he was determined to repay her kindness towards him. "Then it is time, my lady, to free your husband and your land."

To her credit, Gwai did not look at him with _too_ much incredulity. "How?"

"If you can arrange it, we should meet with those leaders on the Islands most sympathetic to our cause." Then Edmund uttered those fateful words, words that tended to give Peter a migraine whenever he heard the younger king speak them: "I have an idea."

Despite best intentions, they were unable to start their rebellion very quickly (and really, was Edmund just destined to help instigate a rebellion _every_ time he came to Narnia?). Healer Resh would have none of her patient moving out of bed until she was sure of his condition, and Edmund could hardly inspire nervous lords to fight when he was carefully tucked underneath a thick coverlet. After all, the only reason it worked that one time was because he had been among a tribe of female warrior Bears, and it had not been so much him _inspiring_ them as it had been him looking rather pathetic and triggering the Bears' mothering nature. He doubted the same situation would work here.

0000000000

So it was two days before Edmund donned some borrowed clothes and followed Lady Gwai to the main hall, where three men nervously waited in the glow of evening candlelight. Lady Gwai introduced them, while Edmund connected their faces to the backgrounds the lady had given him previously. The first man was Lord Herith, a white-haired descendant of Calormene refugees and a fierce abolitionist. Next to him at the hall table was a young man in tattered clothes, whose clumsy, awkward demeanor disguised his adamantine loyalty and strength. He was Commander Turion, who had become a fugitive after trying to steal a ship in order to search for his wife, a sailor fallen victim to the green mist; he now led a small band of outlaws in the Labyrinth, supported clandestinely by Fa Linón. The last man was Lord Amarat, an older man who was a cousin of Gumpas and close in his counsel; but he was a childhood friend of Lady Gwai and likely the reason she still retained hold of Fa Linón, despite her open defiance of the governor.

Edmund himself was introduced as 'Sir Edmund, knight of Narnia and retainer of King Caspian X,' much to the surprise of the gathered men. "Does Narnia join the fight, then?" asked Turion after the introductions ended and all were seated.

"Narnia must learn of the fight first, and then yes, I have every reason to believe she will. It is to that end that I asked Lady Gwai to gather you here. The ship that brought me here is no more," which was technically true, "and I need another to send word to the king of all that is happening here."

Lord Herith looked thoughtful, but a frown marred Turion's face. "The first ship to leave this island is going after my wife," he said, his voice fierce with determination.

Herith, the eldest of the group, shook his head. "I understand your pain, young one, for my son is missing as well. But it does no good to pursue them into the empty East if they return home to ruin." He turned his dark eyes to Edmund. "There are few ships left, all of them large and all of them heavily guarded and manned by armed sailors under control of Gumpas or Calormene slave traders. How many men do we have among us?" Edmund, from Lady Gwai, had nine able-bodied men, while Turion could offer twenty-two, though had weapons for only seventeen. "And I have only my two remaining sons and a grandson – I am lord of Clenard," Herith explained to Edmund and a glowering Turion, "and most of my people manned the Islands' navy."

"Which was taken by the mist soon into Gumpas' reign," finished Turion with a sigh. The commander raised a sardonic eyebrow at Lord Amarat, who had remained perfectly silent so far. "And you, my lord? How many men do you have to give to fight against your cousin?"

Lord Amarat's head, hair streaked with grey, remained high and he looked disdainfully at the outlaw. "The question is not how many I have, but how many men I am willing to waste on a foolhardy endeavor. And should I risk my position and my _life_ so a stranger may commandeer a ship?"

"Then let us say," interrupted Edmund before Turion could begin shouting, "that we have a quarter-century of men. We cannot hope to prevail with force against guarded ships. Lord Amarat, how much control does the governor have over the armed men on this island?"

"Complete," answered Amarat without hesitation. "He holds the Islands' treasury, and with it the loyalty of his guards, most of them Calormene mercenaries. And the slave traders depend on him being in power for their silver."

Edmund leaned against the table, his hands clasped lightly. "Then it seems to me that our target is not a ship, but a governor."

Lady Gwai hid a smile at the silence that fell among the three men. After a moment, Lord Herith cleared his throat. "You propose we attack the governor himself with less than thirty men, lightly armed?" The lord's face held an alarmed look, while Amarat stared at Edmund as if he thought the knight was completely demented. After all, attacking a ship was one thing. Attacking the governor was quite a different story. Only Turion seemed to approve of Edmund's proposed objective, but then he knew the heart and strength of his men.

Edmund shook his head at Herith's conjecture. "I propose that we take back the Lone Islands with the full force of her people. But to do that, the other leaders of the Islands must join us."

"They won't," said Turion, eyes burning with contempt. "They fled like cowards when Lord Bern was arrested."

Herith nodded. "Bern was the only one who could inspire them out of complacency. He has made many allies among the landowners since he first arrived here, and they trust him as they would not anyone else."

A sudden gleam came to Turion's eyes. "If we could free Lord Bern," he started out slowly, "it would send a message across the Islands that we are done cowering."

That was precisely where Edmund wanted the group to go, and he continued the thread by asking, "How well guarded is the prison?"

"Very," answered Lord Herith. "However, the guards tend to be those mercenaries that Gumpas sends to quell sudden acts of rebellion – which might lessen the prison forces."

"My men are good at sudden acts of rebellion," Turion said with an almost feral smile. "And an attack on the armory at Kyri has been in the works for some time. Let it now be the distraction we need."

Herith frowned. "Kyri is some distance from Narrowhaven. How can we be sure Gumpas will hear of the attack in time?"

Lord Amarat came out of the brooding silence he had fallen back to as the new plan began to unfold. "The governor still trusts me – as much as he trusts anyone. I can ensure that he hears of the diversion in time to lower the prison guard."

This time it was Turion who frowned. "And we are to just trust that you will do this? My men's lives will be risked for this; are you willing to risk yours for them? You have not been eager to help us in the past."

There was obviously a history there, from the way the air between lord and outlaw was filled with tension. If nothing else, it was unlikely Turion would be quick to trust any man so close in blood and counsel with the governor who had refused him the means to find his wife. It was Lady Gwai, however, who spoke up for the friend of her youth. "Lord Amarat will not betray us. And if I can trust the life of my husband to him, you can have no reason not to do the same with the lives of your men."

The other men were startled by the interjection; at least, Turion and Herith were. Long centuries without the positive influence of Narnian freedom had decreased the liberties of women on the Lone Islands. Lady Gwai sat at this council in the absence of her husband, but by tradition she would not be expected to speak unless directly addressed. Of the three Lone Island men, only Amarat seemed undisturbed by her words, a testament to his old friendship with Gwai.

"If the lady asks," interjected Amarat softly into the silence, "I will not rest until our mission is successful." Not even Turion could doubt the conviction in his voice.

"And may Aslan grant this," concluded Edmund. The discussion of loyalties was ended, with only logistics to be argued. But at Amarat's vow, Edmund had seen why the governor's cousin, with such access to power and treasure, had given himself over to rebellion. It was not desire for freedom, or even the friendship of decades long past. No, Edmund saw Lady Gwai smile gratefully at her old friend and he saw Amarat's sad, returned smile – and the resigned grief on his face when Gwai returned her attention to the talk of logistics. And that was when Edmund knew that the fate of their mission would rise or fall on Amarat's choices. For Amarat, cousin of the governor, was in love with Gwai, devoted wife of the rebellious Bern. Amarat had his choice: free his rival in love, or betray the cause and bring heartbreak to his beloved Gwai, who loved her husband but might, in his death, be brought, someday, to love Amarat instead.

By all logic, Edmund should have stopped the plan in its tracks then and there. He should have denied Amarat a part in their plan, created a new plan the lord did not know about. Yet Edmund came by his Just reputation legitimately: he had an instinct concerning people's hearts, and his instinct was telling him that Amarat could be trusted in this. The lord was a man who would deny himself in order to bring joy to the one he loved. And so the planning went on uninterrupted.

0000000000

It was late before they finished, enough that the kitchens of Fa Linón served an early breakfast before Turion, Herith, and Amarat slipped away, back to their own dwellings. Lady Gwai and Edmund were both sternly scolded by Healer Resh and forced to swear that they would retire for a morning's nap. As they parted, Gwai gave Edmund her sincere thanks for convincing the others to help free her husband and her land. "I did very little," Edmund protested. "It was Turion who actually proposed freeing your husband."

"But only because you led him to the idea. For freeing Bern to lead the rebellion was your plan from the beginning, was it not?"

Edmund smirked. "I find that lords prefer to believe something was their own idea. It has worked well in the past."

Lady Gwai returned his smile and curtseyed her good-night; though it was more properly good morning. Then Healer Resh bustled Edmund off to his own bed, for which the young king was grateful. Exhaustion took him, but this time, at least, it was an exhaustion born in the satisfaction of a successful council and a good plan. And in three days' time, the plan would begin to unfold.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

The plan went off without a hitch, right until the moment it fell apart completely. Turion and his men were off attacking Kyri. Lord Herith was gathering some of the landowners in Narrowhaven with promises of proof of success against Gumpas. And Edmund was hiding in one of the dark recesses of the governor's mansion, dressed in the loose, covering folds of traditional Calormene clothes, while Lord Amarat was in the court room, convincing his cousin to send men after Turion and Kyri.

Edmund kept his ears and eyes sharp but, as Amarat had promised, few people entered this section of the mansion. The building was from after his time, and the Calormene influences were evident. Yet surely the oppressive Calormene ways were not too entrenched here; after all, Herith and many of his compatriots of Calormene heritage were set against many of those influences – and their ancestors would not have settled on the islands had the oppression they fled been present here at the time. No, it seemed more likely that slavery and oppression of the masses had entered the Islands more recently; this old mansion with its southern influences may just be an example of the melding of Narnian and Calormene cultures. _Much like the melding of Telmarine and Narnian which Caspian started_ thought Edmund as he waited for Amarat to appear. It would be interesting to see the effects of _that_ integration three years on.

Edmund's idle musings were interrupted by the silent arrival of Lord Amarat. The lord's face was undecipherable, even to one as good at reading people as Edmund. So he had to wait until Amarat slid into the shadows with him. "What news?" whispered Edmund.

Amarat's hesitation was brief, barely noticeable save for the debating look that flashed across his eyes. Edmund did not let it show that he understood that look: what Amarat told him now would decide the fate of many. Then Amarat spoke. "Sir, our plan is endangered. I fulfilled my task and Gumpas has sent troops to Kyri. Only he has sent men from helping the Calormene traders guard their ships in the harbor of Narrowhaven. His guard around the prison is as strong as ever, if not stronger."

Edmund let out a hissed oath, learned from his shipmates aboard the _Pevensey Bay_. "Why?"

"Unbeknownst to me, Gumpas was meeting before dawn this morn with one of his favored groups of slave traders, when three strangers stumbled upon their meeting. Two were taken to the markets, but the third was taken to Bern's cell. It is not unusual," Amarat added when Edmund gave him a questioning look, "for men in their prime to be held in the prison until it is time for them to be sold on the block."

"Would Gumpas strengthen his guard for one man?"

Amarat shook his dark head. "No. But soon after the man was imprisoned, one of the guards reported that he overheard Lord Bern recognize the man." The lord looked straight into Edmund's eyes. "Lord Bern declared the man to be King Caspian X." Another hissed oath passed Edmund's lips, at which Amarat raised an eyebrow. "May I assume you believe Bern's identification is correct?"

Edmund rubbed his left temple, attempting to quell the burgeoning headache. "Lord Bern was close friends with Caspian IX, and knew his son as a child. If anyone could recognize King Caspian, Bern could." As much as Edmund looked forward to being reunited with his friend, he really wished Caspian were not in the middle of this. As proven by history, plans never seemed to go off right when the new Narnian king was around.

A thought which was corroborated by Amarat's next comment. "Then we must hurriedly commit to a new plan, for Gumpas plans to have King Caspian and Lord Bern publically executed this afternoon."

Edmund's headache came forward in full force and he sighed. "Alright, time for plan three."

Amarat wrinkled his forehead. "Do you not mean 'plan two'?"

"No, plan two went out the proverbial window, along with plan one, when Caspian arrived. So: plan three." And now Edmund just had to figure out what that plan was.

0000000000

Again, the plan rested on the choices of Amarat, though Edmund was even more trusting of the man's character now. Had the Island lord simply given Edmund the go ahead to continue with their first plan, Edmund would surely have been captured or killed, and Gumpas would have been free to execute Lord Bern as he pleased. That he had not done so solidified Edmund's opinion of Amarat, and so he had no trouble in trusting the lord to be a suitable distraction.

"… as you requested, Governor, and have found the correct worth of Bern's property. It is less than hoped for, since a good portion came to Bern in Lady Gwai's dowry, which legally we may not claim without a writ of estate replevy constituted by…"

Edmund tuned out Amarat's words to Gumpas, though with some regret – legal proceedings were always interesting. However, he had to concentrate on maneuvering around the court room without being seen. Thankfully, the governor was apparently stingy with candles, so shadows were plentiful. He kept his knife sheathed so a stray glint would not give his position away to the three mercenary guards stationed in the room. The sheath was padded leather, and did not make a noticeable sound as he slowly removed the knife when finally in position.

He was facing the governor's back as the man stood in front of a large stone chair; a chair which was conveniently placed to shield Edmund from unfriendly gazes. Edmund took in his quarry: the voluminous robes, the befeathered Calormene hat, and the jewels draped haphazardly around neck, wrist, and waist. Thankfully, even the large gems would not hinder the danger of his knife; the sybaritic governor's throat was bare enough. With a swift, fluid motion Edmund pinned Gumpas' arms to his side, while the knife flashed.

Only a hair's breadth from the flesh of Gumpas' neck did the knife cease its movement. "Good morn, sir," said Edmund in a cheerful but fierce voice, which was slightly muffled by the face-obscuring Calormene turban he wore around his head. There was a long moment of surprise before the guards realized that there was some sort of assassin holding a knife to their employer's throat. They took a step forward, but Edmund just tightened his hold and pressed the flat of the blade into Gumpas' neck so that a tiny flick of his wrist would take a life. "I would not move if I were you, unless you want your master dead on the floor. Hard to get your gold then, eh?"

The mercenaries weren't stupid: if doing nothing would improve their chances of getting paid, they would do nothing. As they moved back, Amarat moved to the next part of the plan. "Who are you?" he demanded angrily. "What do you want? I insist you unhand my cousin at once!"

Edmund leveled a look on Amarat that made even that lord feel uneasy, though he knew they were on the same side. "I am the Shadow of Narnia. And I am getting my king back."

"Your king? Do you mean the madman in Bern's cell who claims to be Caspian of Narnia?" interrupted Gumpas, who forgot for a moment that he was in a precarious position. It seemed that the governor did not quite believe Caspian's claim, and was just going to execute him as a precaution.

A powerplay of the kind that Edmund despised. A slight increase in pressure on the knife and Gumpas lapsed back to silence. "Yes, that king. The king who overthrew his tyrannical uncle when he was just a boy. The king who has built one of the greatest armies and navies this world has even seen – oh, your Calormene allies didn't mention that, did they?" The Calormene mercenaries actually shifted nervously and Edmund wondered to himself if he _wasn't_ just making up impressive-sounding lies. "They don't like to admit any weakness, as you might guess. I suppose the fact that I have…_taken care_ of their spies in Narnia on behalf of my king would also be one of those weaknesses."

Edmund turned his attention to Amarat, who was looking suitably nervous. "Now, Governor, if you would order your cousin here to release my king – and his cell mate, as well – I would very much appreciate it. I may even give you one of the nicer prison cells once the rest of our shore party has eradicated all traces of forcible resistance." His voice was low and dangerous, no more so than when he finished with: "We do not take kindly to the imprisonment or enslavement of our people. Your reign here has ended."

Though Edmund could not see Gumpas' face, he could feel the governor quivering. Tyrants, once stripped of the power gold and fear gave them, were simply cowards. "Amarat!" the governor ordered, "Release them now!"

Amarat hesitated and Edmund added: "Bring them here, please. And make sure the prison guards understand that the Islands have returned to Narnia's hands." Bowing curtly, Amarat theatrically whirled around and headed to the prison, along with one of the guards. And so Edmund was left with a sweating and smelly governor, and two guards who were arguing quietly with each other.

Finally, one turned to Edmund. "My lord, our only loyalty to this dog is his gold. Are we to expect no payment, then?" The glint in the Calormene's eye told Edmund that this man would happily take his payment in Gumpas' flesh.

"It is for the king to decide now what to do," he answered, though he doubted Caspian would have a great desire to recompense mercenaries for oppressing the people of the Lone Islands. Edmund did not much like the thought himself, and began pondering a way to get rid of the mercenaries and slavers without rewarding them or causing an eruption of violence. He did not have too long to think, as soon the doors opened again, revealing Amarat, several guards, a ragged old man with abraded wrists whom Edmund presumed was Lord Bern…and a young man with a scruffy beard and an indignant look. Caspian.

000000000000

Knowing that revealing his identity would cause a reaction by Caspian that could lead to the disruption of his already haphazard plan, Edmund had modulated his voice enough that the older Narnian king likely would not recognize him underneath his Calormene disguise. Therefore, Edmund could confidently address Caspian – though he did hope that Amarat had hinted enough at their plan so his words would make sense. "Your majesty, all is set. Our forces have positioned themselves and will strike at the appointed time, unless you belay your order."

Edmund tried not to grin with pride as Caspian smoothly took up the lie; three years had certainly improved his acting skills. "Thank you, my good man. And I see you have succeeded in apprehending the insurrectionist."

"The Shadow of Narnia _always _completes his mission," Edmund stated, and was delighted when Caspian bantered back as if they had gone through this conversation before.

"Yes, but must you always be so dramatic about everything? It would have been much easier just to get us out of that prison without anyone even noticing."

Edmund did smile then, knowing the guards would see it as a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Yes, but then you wouldn't have the pleasure of pronouncing this cretin's ultimate fate in such a lovely chamber." The words dripped with sarcasm, which was hardly needed since no one would accuse the dingy room of approaching anything resembling true elegance. "Governor, I believe this is where you formally hand over power to your king."

Gumpas was close to blubbering by now, so it was easy to convince him to follow orders. The guards, knowing a takeover when they saw one, moved from preventing an escape by Caspian and Bern to keeping their eyes on Gumpas and Amarat. Edmund removed his knife from Gumpas' throat, but kept it in his hand and a kept his grip tight on the soon-to-be-former governor's arm. Then, just as Edmund had been hoping, King Caspian took charge of the situation.

"I, Caspian X, King of Narnia under Aslan and the High King, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table and Lord of Telmar, do hereby strip you, Governor Gumpas, of your title and lands for your oppression of the people of these, Narnia's island holdings; for your collusion with enemies of Narnia; for ordering the laying of hands on Narnia's royal personages; and for abjuring the laws of Aslan." Caspian's glare was fierce, his voice was that of a king, and the menace of barely-restrained violence was clear to all in the room. "You are ordered now to accompany ourselves and our companions," meaning, apparently, Edmund and Bern, "to the town square where you will release those slaves being sold there, at your personal expense."

After that, Edmund doubted even the greedy guard he had spoken to earlier could disobey. Caspian turned and strode confidently through the doors, Bern at his side for guidance to the Narrowhaven town square. Amarat and most of the guards followed, with Edmund taking the rear behind Gumpas, who was kept in check not only by the threat of Edmund's knife, but by the other guards who flanked him.

As they walked towards the square, they began attracting quite a bit of attention. Even after a year in prison, Bern was still recognizable to the people. To see him walking with an unknown nobleman before a captive Gumpas gave the people the confidence and curiosity to emerge from the hollow safety of their homes. Edmund saw others, rich men with entourages, gathered and staring at them in amazement, and he knew Lord Herith had been at least partially successful in assembling the landowners. If it came down to a fight, the conspirators might not be as badly outnumbered as they had thought. The crowd grew larger and the murmurings louder as they approached the town center. It twisted at Edmund's heart to see what should have been a thriving market area, with food and trinket sellers, instead empty save for one dark booth – the slave trader's block.

Captive men, women, and children sat huddled together for comfort despite the beating sun. There were heavy chains around even the smallest child, and it made Edmund's blood boil to see the fear in their eyes. A Lone Island slave trader stood by a stone stand, calling out to a crowd of mostly Calormene buyers, oblivious to the pain he was causing living, breathing people – perhaps he was even one of those who perversely reveled in that pain. But what truly caused Edmund to go cold with dismay and anger was the sight of the young girl, bound in chains, who the trader was auctioning off with a smile on his face. It was, impossibly, Lucy. His sister. His_ sister_.

The urge to rip the slave trader apart with his bare hands rose considerably, and only sheer force of will kept him still. After all, Edmund was not the only one to notice Lucy's predicament, and Caspian was in a much better position to do something about it. "Sir! You will release the lady at once!"

The slave trader, Pug by name, was startled out of his auctioneering, but the shock soon turned into a sneer. "Who are you to tell me what to do with my property, boy?"

Caspian, who really only had three men in his support and the tenuous loyalty of a few mercenaries, did not show his weak position. Instead, he boldly strode forward, Bern at his side and a step behind. "I am King Caspian of Narnia – by tradition and decree, these islands belong to the crown of Narnia, and so, here, my word is law. And I say now that you are in a precarious position, sir, for you have dared lay hands on this, my royal sister, Queen Lucy the Valiant of the Golden Age. Refuse my orders at your own peril."

Pug, a man of force not politics, was not as easily swayed by the royal claim as Gumpas, though he did note idly that the girl he was selling had suddenly transformed from a scared child to a confidant woman who was leveling him with a glare that rivaled that of this so-called king. Still, he was not moved. "You're a bit ragged for a king, ain't ya? All I see is a boy, a doddering old men, and some mercenaries who loyalties will follow the gold," Pug said, jingling a bag of coins in his hand.

"You also see knights and soldiers of Narnia, foul cretin!" came a strident voice in the crowd, and suddenly cloaks were removed to show that half the 'potential buyers' were wearing the red and gold of a Narnian force, each man bearing a steel sword or crossbow. The voice was a familiar one, and Edmund grinned to see the valiant Reepicheep holding his rapier en guarde from atop the shoulder of a tall, bald man who wore the insignia of a sea captain. So it had not just been a bluff for him to say that at least part of Narnia's military was present.

This show of force cemented at least a temporary loyalty for the mercenaries, and Pug was not a complete idiot. He quickly removed Lucy's shackles, and the queen grinned and bounded over to Caspian. "You're just in time!"

Once Caspian was sure she was not injured in any way – much to Edmund's quiet relief – the king turned back to the slave trader, making sure to address the crowd of buyers as well. "As slavery is illegal in Narnia and her provinces, all slaves on the islands and in Narnian waters are hereby free from this moment on." A grumble of discontent rose among the crowd, particularly from those who had only just purchased a slave from Pug. Caspian ignored this and continued his decree. "Those who would buy a Talking Creature of Aslan, whether human or otherwise, are not welcome to dwell on our lands. Those who willingly and contritely release their captives will be granted clemency and a small restitution. Resist our decree, and you will be exiled without recompense. Try to flee, and our armada will force your compliance." There was a slight twitch at the edge of Caspian's mouth, which told Edmund that this last sentence was a bit of an exaggeration. But if it forced the submission of the slave traders and owners, it was at least a useful lie.

Though it rather galled Edmund to know that some of these slave owners would be compensated for their sins, he would trust that Caspian would do so logically and compassionately – he rather suspected that the former slaves would receive more restitution than their masters. There was more grumbling when the slave traders were ordered to return their profits to those who had bought slaves that morning, but the armed Narnians, and the swelling crowd of Narrowhaven's bristling common populace, kept them from protesting too much. Particularly since Gumpas was forced to dedicate his own treasury to the remuneration of the slaves.

Releasing the former governor to the care of Reepicheep and the Narnian captain, Edmund made his way to Caspian, though he was pleased to note the protective and watchful gleam in Reepicheep's beady eyes as he did so. Edmund was also pleased that he had not lost his touch, since Caspian jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of his, still altered, voice as he sidled up to the older king. "You need to gain the crowd. Elevate Bern; he is a popular figurehead, and the people need to know Gumpas has no more power."

To Caspian's credit, the king studied Edmund, trying to gauge how much he should trust this stranger. However, Caspian could also clearly see that people were beginning to happily swarm around Lord Bern, which reaffirmed the words of 'the Shadow'. Standing tall on the former slave block, Caspian called for attention and was immediately answered with respectful silence. "People of the Lone Islands, you have suffered long enough. Governor Gumpas has been stripped of his title and power." A cheer rose and Caspian waited for the people to settle before he continued. "In the name of Aslan, I hereby appoint Lord Bern of Fa Linón to the Dukedom of the Lone Islands." As the crowd cheered again, a startled Lord Bern knelt in front of his king. Not having a sword, due to only recently having been released from prison himself, Caspian laid his hand on Bern's grey head. "Bern, son of Beir, we charge you with the protection of the people of these islands. Rule them under us by the grace of Aslan, and let no power on earth or in the heavens turn you from your duty." Caspian smiled at his father's old friend. "Rise, Duke Bern, and serve your people."

That was all the crowd needed, and Duke Bern stood to a roar like that of a hundred minotaurs (impressive, considering there was only one minotaur in the crowd). To Caspian's confusion and Gumpas' dismay, Lord Amarat was the first to acknowledge Bern as his new Duke, and Caspian as his King. Some confusion was cleared when Lord Herith drew up beside Amarat and clasped him on the shoulder with a jolly: "Not exactly as we planned, but a success nonetheless. The others are with us, and I have sent word to Commander Turion that Bern is free and Gumpas overthrown." The look on the ex-governor's face when he realized his cousin's betrayal was priceless.

As the rest of the Island lords and landowners swore their allegiance to Narnia and Duke Bern, the Narnian soldiers began the process of separating out the slaveowners and traders, automatically carrying out their king's command. Backed by mercenaries and landowners alike, the Narrowhaven harbor was secured, and slaves were freed and disembarked from ships that had not fled. Herith and some of the other landowners had been quick to send riders and armed men to the other, smaller ports on Doorn with the news and a warning for slavers that the Narnian navy surrounded the Lone Islands, prepared to board and free any slaves by force. Some took their chances, but most preferred to stay and hope for compensation. However, the people of the Lone Islands, empowered by King Caspian's arrival and actions, were not want to let those who had enslaved their families to get off so easily. Most of what the new Duke and the lords dealt with over the following weeks were mobs of vigilante justice.

But that was still in the future. At this moment of freedom, a happier reunion was taking place. Undeterred by arguments that she should remain at Fa Linón, Lady Gwai had accompanied Herith as he had approached the Islands' landowners. And so it was, as the Duke and King were receiving fealty, that the Lady of Fa Linón dashed through the crowd, noble bearing forgotten as she picked up her skirts and ran to her husband.

Even in the noise of the mob, Bern heard her call his name. Not even waiting to finish his sentence in his conversation with one of the younger landowners, Bern leapt down from the platform on which he stood. Within a moment, he had his wife enveloped in his arms. As tears filled both their eyes and they murmured words of love to each other, Edmund looked away, feeling an intruder to their reunion. Amarat stood near him, and Edmund winced at the broken and resigned look on the lord's face as he witnessed his beloved with her husband. Sensing Edmund's glance, Amarat looked at the young man and realized that at least one other knew his secret. He tensed, but Edmund gave him an understanding nod; he would not say anything. But with the nod, he also crossed his right arm diagonally across his chest. It was a sign on the Lone Islands of respect, for Edmund truly did respect that Amarat had forsaken his own small chance at happiness for the sake of his people and the happiness of the woman he loved.

Though they surely wished for a longer, more private reunion, both the Lord and Lady of Fa Linón knew their duty, and so Bern brought his wife before King Caspian to introduce her. To this Amarat, who again hid his true feelings, added, "Your majesty, it was Lady Gwai who called for this conspiracy to free Lord Bern and overthrow Gumpas in your name; the plan, such as it was, found its conception at Fa Linón."

Caspian smiled and bowed again towards the lady. "Then I owe you my thanks, my lady." Lady Gwai curtseyed in response, but Caspian was not finished. "May I ask you to again call your conspirators together? I believe we should hold a council to decide on our next course of action, and I would trust your judgment as to their characters."

Seeing as they were all nearby, save for Turion in Kyri, it took little time for Herith, Amarat, and Edmund to step forward without even being named. Edmund still remained cloaked and covered since he did not wish to cause a scene in front of the celebrating people of Narrowhaven. Along with the Island Conspirators, Bern led Caspian, Lucy, and the Narnian captain back towards the governor's mansion. Any questions the Narnian mainlanders might have had about 'The Shadow' being included were thrust out of their minds by an interruption to their procession. An interruption that had Edmund gaping in astonishment, and thankful that his veiled turban concealed his bad impression of a beached fish.

"Where are you going? You can't leave me alone! I want to be taken to the British Consul right this instant! I've been kidnapped and forced into barbaric conditions, and now nearly sold into…" The tirade continued, but Edmund mostly ignored it in favor of continuing to gape in confusion. Eustace Clarence Scrubb, his annoying brat of a cousin, was here in Narnia? The injustice of such a spoiled child being allowed in Narnia when Peter and Susan were not… anger rose in Edmund and he smoothly stalked forward until he was looming over Eustace. "Do you make demands of the king?"

Eustace gulped and his eyes widened, but he was not swayed from his speech. "I'm a republican, I don't follow any so-called kings."

Edmund moved closer to the boy until his covered nose was but an inch from Eustace's, the air around him practically crackling with menace. "You _will _listen to this one."

There was a pause, and then Eustace gulped again. "Well, fine, but he hasn't said anything…"

"Eustace," interrupted Caspian, "go stick by Reepicheep and help him keep an eye on things."

0000000000

So a grumbling Eustace stormed off and the council proceeded to the mansion. They gathered in the great hall, making sure to leave Narnian guards at the door, while Bern spoke quietly to one of the servants. Before the group could sit at the far table, however, the Narnian captain spoke. "Begging your pardon, your majesty, but might'nt we have some introductions?" The captain was looking pointedly at Edmund, which the latter was glad to see – Caspian needed slightly suspicious people around him; they were good protection.

The request was granted and Caspian introduced those with him: "Lucy the Valiant, Queen of Narnia's Golden Age, and Captain Drinian of the ship, the _Dawn Treader._"

The side of Lord Herith's mouth twitched. "And that would be the name of the only Narnian ship surrounding the Islands?" he asked, referencing the king's bluff about an armada off the coast. It figured the former head of the Islands' navy would realize the lack of actual ships on the horizon, and the number of Narnians on shore.

Caspian just grinned back. "Of course. The _Dawn Treader_ is the pride of Narnia's navy. Still, despite her lonesome status, I would not worry about Calormene reprisal: our navy defeated the Tisroc's last year, and he will be loath to attempt another attack so soon." It was an impressive fact, considering the Telmarines had had no sea-faring vessels whatsoever three years previously, and Calormen traditionally had the strongest, though not the fastest, navy in the known world. Edmund would have liked to have heard the details of how a young Narnian navy had defeated Calormen, but that would be for another time; now it was Lord Herith's turn for introductions, as he was the eldest present.

"It gives me pleasure, your majesties, Captain, as Lord Herith of Clenard, to introduce formally, Lord Amarat of Cawyn. Lady Gwai of Fa Linón is known to you. The third of our group, Commander Turion, formerly of the Eagle Company, was in charge of our distraction in Kyri, remaining there still."

And then came an awkward moment, for Caspian and the Narnians were waiting for an introduction to 'the Shadow', while Herith and the Islanders assumed that the king already recognized his knight and had considered Edmund 'already introduced', like Lord Bern. As silence grew, this fact began standing out. Thankfully for all involved, Lady Gwai recognized that Bern had alone, presumably, not been introduced to one whom she considered a great benefactor of their family. "My love, I beg you let me introduce to you this young man, for he not only was an instigator of your freedom, but also saved our son from falling prey to the slave traders, at risk of his own life." She turned to Edmund. "Please, remove your disguise so that I may present you to my husband."

With a mischievous smile, Edmund bowed and removed the turban, as Lady Gwai introduced: "My dear lord, this is Sir Edmund, knight of Narnia."

Though the gathered people might have eventually made the connection between the presence of Queen Lucy the Valiant and a mysterious Sir Edmund of Narnia, they were not given the time necessary to make such a connection. Instead, all present were treated to the sight of a young queen shouting with joy and practically tackling the knight, almost bowling King Caspian over as he attempted to do nearly the same thing. "Edmund," Lucy cried, "you're here too, oh, I'm so glad!" She pulled back suddenly and punched him in the arm. "I haven't had a letter from you in _forever_, I've been so worried!"

Edmund just laughed and hugged his little sister again. "Well for me, at least, seeing you in person is better than any letter."

Lucy buried her face in his chest, and so her words were muffled. "It's been almost five months, Ed. And I _know_ you visited Peter before you left."

"It may have been five months since you last saw him, Lucy," interrupted an impatient Caspian, "But I think three years is trumps, so…"

With a roll of her eyes, Lucy stepped away and allowed Caspian to pull Edmund into a bear hug. "Air, Caspian." Edmund gasped. "Need to breathe."

Caspian grinned and clasped the shorter king on the shoulder as he let go. "It is good to see you again, brother."

"Same here," said Edmund, matching the grin. In truth, it wasn't really until then that Edmund allowed himself to be relieved that only three years had passed in Narnia and not three hundred.

"Your majesty," interjected Lady Gwai, on whom comprehension was dawning. "Might I assume this young man is more than just a knight of Narnia?"

Caspian nodded, grin still in place. "While he is a Narnian knight, he is firstly King Edmund the Just of the Golden Age."

The Islanders were faintly shocked, their mind buzzing to recent events to try and remember any clues they had missed. Except for Lord Amarat, who was unfluttered by the news except in how it affected the Lone Islands. "Indeed. But why are the ancient kings and queens returning? Surely not just to overthrow one miserly governor, as grateful as we are."

And so it was back to business, despite how the three rulers dearly wished to reunite further. The group settled around a small table that was set near the side of the great hall. Caspian and Lucy took the seats on either side of Edmund, with the others filling in the rest of the chairs. After a quick glance at his fellow sovereigns, Caspian led the council. He told of his vow to find the seven lords, and that he sailed now because Narnia was at peace and could be left in the charge of Trumpkin the dwarf and Lord Glozelle of Woodwatch. He related how they had been suspicious of the silence of the Lone Islands when they arrived, and how they were captured by the slave traders.

Then Bern took over and informed the rest of the group of the mission his brethren had embarked on, to find the source of the mysterious green mist and to rescue the people it had taken. Finally, Lord Amarat related the entirety of the Lone Islanders' conspiracy to rescue Lord Bern, including the changes necessitated by Caspian's capture. After the complete story was known, the council went silent in thought. It was Lucy who broke that silence. "We can't know Aslan's reasons for bringing Edmund and myself here; but regardless, we have a duty to help Narnia's people, whether mainlander, islander, or seafolk."

"As well as help our fellow king fulfill his vow to find the lost lords," agreed Edmund.

Amarat's face was grave. "We do not know what lies east beyond a few leagues of our shore. It would be a dangerous journey, and our sailing vessels are few, our sailors fewer; I do not know what help we could give you."

Face just as stern, Bern came slowly to his feet, noble in his bearing despite his prison rags and unkempt face. "There is one aid we can give." A servant came in at Bern's signal to the guards at the doorway. The young man carried a long, wrapped bundle and handed it to the new duke with a bow. Laying the bundle on the table, Bern removed the cloth. All who sat around the table shifted in their chairs as a long, shining sword was revealed, but Lucy and Edmund both gasped in recognition. Bern nodded at them. "Your majesties know what this is, I see." They nodded in return, but did not speak.

Caspian, who had been taught well by Doctor Cornelius, said, "It's a sword from the Golden Age of Narnia, is it not?"

"Yes," answered Edmund softly. "Made by the Dwarves of the Seacliffs."

Lucy's eyes were distant as she remembered the circumstances surrounding the creation of the swords. "The dwarves forged them from a great stone, one kept by their people from near the dawn of time. The swords were created to be set as part of a memorial for those who died…in a raid into the lands west of Narnia." Her ending was diplomatic. It would do not good to announce here that the raid had been the one which saved Edmund after his discovery and imprisonment by a Telmarine lord, or that the rescued king had commissioned the memorial in his grief for those who had been lost for his sake.

Caspian, who had made the connection, let only a brief flicker of guilt pass his face before speaking. "How did you come by this sword, then, my lord? The Telmarines were not keen to use anything Narnian."

Bern ran his fingers lightly over the flat of the blade. "My king, your mother's line has long had a history of dreaming truth." Caspian looked startled at this; his mother had died soon after his birth, and there were few who could speak of her to him. "It was a hidden talent, but known to your father. Before her death, the queen told her husband of one of the strongest dreams she had ever had. She saw the eastern horizon grow dark, but behind the darkness was a great light that stood apart from the world. Out of the light came a voice, saying: "Seven swords and seven lords, and a far white shore." She asked what the light meant, but it kept repeating the phrase as she watched the darkness grow and cover all the land until she finally woke. When she died, the king became obsessed with finding the swords and preventing the evil future the queen saw."

"But why these swords?" asked Lucy. "Surely the memorial had been long lost and forgotten by then."

"Not forgotten by all," Bern answered. "Lord Octesian, the queen's cousin, remembered a tale of their family that told of a barrow in the Western Woods, one which no Telmarine dared set foot on, for it was said to have been cursed by Prince Darksilver the Giant."

Caspian, startled at the news that one of the lost lords was a relative, still humphed amusedly at Bern's ending comment. He turned to Edmund and raised an eyebrow. "Did you learn to curse barrows before or after you learned to breathe poison?" Apparently _someone_ had been searching out the old Telmarine stories that portrayed the Four Sovereigns of Narnia's Golden Ages as evil giants.

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Let the man finish his story. But no, there was no cursing of barrows involved, in case you were wondering," he added to a confused council.

Only slightly baffled by the exchange, Bern continued. "The king and Octesian led myself and five other lords on a journey to the barrow. No other Telmarine dared even come near, so we dug the ground ourselves, finding seven swords that still shone despite the centuries under the earth. Each lord took one of the swords and swore to the king that we would use them to protect the land from whatever danger came from the east. When the king died," Bern bowed his head at Caspian in sympathy, "and Miraz took power, we knew we were not safe. Had we not sworn our oath, we would have stayed and tried to protect your claim, your majesty. But we knew Miraz was after us and would hinder our oaths, so we fled to Archenland and from there sailed east, here to the Lone Islands.

"We watched the shores for two years before the rumors of the green mist arose, and we knew that this was what we were meant to confront. My wife was due to give birth, however, and so the others went ahead, with my word that I would follow. Your majesty," he said to Caspian, "now that the way is free, I am now torn between two duties…"

Caspian, understanding and seeing the fear in Lady Gwai's eyes, interrupted quickly. "I would have you stay here and fulfill your role as Duke, my lord, and hold your oath to my father as passing to this new duty." Caspian stood and addressed those at the table. "It is clear that something must be done about this green mist and whatever is behind it – _whoever_ is behind it. As a protectorate of Narnia, the Lone Islands have the right to petition the crown for direct aid."

Lords Herith and Amarat nodded their ascent, and Bern spoke: "Your majesty, your servants request Narnia's aid in locating the mist and saving the people it has taken."

Caspian smiled. "Then, as your request coincides with our duty to find the lost Narnian lords, the _Dawn Treader_ will continue east to see what we may find." There was an adventurous glint in Caspian's eyes; Edmund rather thought the older king was very pleased to have a reason to sail beyond the Lone Islands.

Lord Bern bowed to Caspian, picking up the sword from the table and presenting it to the king. "Your majesty, what aid and supplies we can give are yours."

Caspian grasped the hilt of the sword. "And may Aslan bless our journey."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

For the next two days the crew and passengers of the _Dawn Treader_ prepared to sail into the unknown. The Lone Islands were still in an uproar; slave traders were run out with barely the clothes on their backs. Gumpas' supporters were ferreted out and held accountable for their crimes. Ships were confiscated by the state, and messages were sent to the mainland with orders for Caspian's regents, Trumpkin and Lord Glozelle, to send emissaries to Calormen with demands for the release of those Lone Islanders sold into slavery there. (Caspian assured the Lone Islanders that the Tisroc would give them no trouble for this, due to a long story involving Glozelle, a pack of wild Chimerae, a squirrel, and the Tisroc's favorite warhorse, which had resulted in Glozelle having the Tisroc's high favor.)

Turion was reinstated as Commander of the Eagle Company, then promoted to Captain-General of the new Duke's Guard, then nearly court-martialed for insubordination, all within the course of about four hours. Four more hours of arguing and Edmund finally convinced Turion that he would do more good protecting the Lone Islands until their return than he would forcing his way onto the _Dawn Treader_ to join them in search of his wife. Caspian then quickly reinstated the promotion, having no wish to incite another rebellion less than 48 hours after his own was completed.

For those two days all three sovereigns were so busy that they barely had time to say two words among them. Edmund was holed up with Turion and the Duke's Guard. Caspian was ensconced with said Duke, repealing old, oppressive laws and instituting the Narnian law that he had developed the past three years. Meanwhile, Lucy worked with Captain Drinian to prepare the _Dawn Treader_ for the journey into the unknown seas. She was unfortunately also stuck with Eustace as a grumbling shadow, since he was starting to realize that Caspian really _was_ a king, and he was simply just scared of Edmund at the moment.

Finally, they were all as ready as they could be, and it was time to bid farewell to their friends on the Lone Islands. Lords Herith and Amarat had already given their goodbye's, as their estates on Avra had need of them, but the others stood on the dock to see the Narnians off on their journey; along with, seemingly, the entirety of Narrowhaven. Lord Bern, now shaved and looking much more Duke-like, bowed to the three sovereigns, as did his wife and son at his side. Then Winth ruined the solemnity of the moment by throwing his arms around Edmund's waist. The boy had developed a severe case of hero-worship for his rescuer, and was quite put-out that his plans of stowing away to follow Edmund on an adventure had been foiled by a routine search of the longboats that would take them out to the _Dawn Treader_.

Edmund awkwardly patted the sniffling boy on the head, and smiled gratefully when Lady Gwai disentangled her son. The lady then pulled the young king into a motherly embrace. "Take care, your majesty." Edmund nodded, his throat strangely tight as Gwai returned to stand with her husband. He looked at the reunited family as he stepped into the boat, and his thoughts turned to his own family: Peter, his brother and protector, Susan and her motherly ways. Only Lucy, friend and confidant, was with him now, and he was thankful when she slid onto the seat next to him and hugged his arm, a commiserating look on her face.

Their wishful desire for the presence of their older siblings was pushed aside as the boat was cast off from the dock to the cheers and waves of the Lone Islanders. As the shore and those on it faded, Edmund turned his attention to the ship which he was steering the longboats towards. He gave a low whistle when the _Dawn Treader_ came into clear view. "Very nice. Archenlandish construction, isn't it?"

Caspian looked over his shoulder at his ship, then turned back to Edmund wearing a proud smile. "Archenland shipwrights gave us the template, true, but her build and design are all Narnian."

"Well, I approve," said Edmund firmly. "Though Lucy was always the most at home with building and sailing ships, so I defer to her opinion," he added, lightly knocking Lucy's shoulder with his own.

Captain Drinian smiled. "Indeed, her majesty has given us good advice on some improvements we could make."

Lucy blushed at the compliment. "There wasn't much; they've done such a good job already. Besides, Edmund was as interested in ship-construction as I was, perhaps more so."

Edmund shrugged. "I had to make sure every piece of wood counted. Negotiating between dryads and shipwrights is _not_ easy."

Caspian winced in agreement, causing the rest of the boat to chuckle as the king was forced to tell of his initial blunders when it came to asking the dryads for wood for ships. Soon enough, they reached the ship and boarded. Drinian took the helm and shouted orders, the sailors moving to their posts with ease, quickly preparing to weigh anchor. Edmund smiled as he saw Reepicheep scamper to the prow of the ship, tail twitching. The Mouse was almost more anxious to sail east than Caspian; even during the war against Miraz, Reepicheep had been known to gaze longingly towards the sunrise, thanks to a charge laid on him in his cradle by his nurse to sail to the utter east.

It had been in that war that Edmund had first heard of the notion that Aslan's Country actually lay in the far eastern part of the world. During his own reign it had mostly been assumed that Aslan's Country was a purely spiritual place where souls went after death. But apparently, in the years after the disappearance of the Four Sovereigns, a new revelation had come to the Narnians: of Aslan's Country far to the East, a land as physical as it was spiritual. It was an odd idea to Edmund, but he was starting to like it more and more. He, and his siblings, had always been prayerful and devout, but they had actually seen and touched Aslan – there was no denying that Aslan was physically present, though he was not bound to the world as mortals were. The Narnians in the later time had less direct knowledge of Aslan, and the fact that His country was a physical place in their own world gave the Narnians hope to hold on to during the dark ages of Telmarine rule.

"Ed?" He was pulled out of his musings by Caspian's voice. "Would you like a tour?"

000000000000

He did indeed, and so Caspian and Lucy happily dragged him around the ship as it set sail to the east. It was a well-made craft, and the tour was made all the more interesting by the love Caspian obviously had for the pride of Narnia's navy, as well as Lucy's deep knowledge of ships in general. Finally, they settled into the stern cabin, as the noon light streamed through the windows. Edmund lounged in one of the chairs, letting the feeling of rocking over waves lull him. He knew they were likely heading into extreme danger, but his senses were not as on guard as they had been when he had been while working on the _Pevensey Bay. _This was a Narnian ship, through and through, wood and sails instead of steel and engines; there was something more natural about this, or maybe his comfort came from remembering the years he and Lucy had spent sailing the coasts and islands.

By Lucy's relaxed posture as she sat in the chair next to him, she was remembering the same. They had always been the two siblings who enjoyed sailing the most. After his first disastrous trip to the Lone Islands, Peter never set foot on a boat unless there was no other choice, and even then he preferred to be unconscious the whole time. Susan just considered sailing another form of transportation, to be used when needed and ignored otherwise. But Lucy had taken to boats like squirrels to trees, and was always sailing here or there, monitoring the well-being of their sea-bound subjects, and making trade connections with the various island nations. Edmund had often joined her and had been integral in creating Narnia's navy, however much his heart still truly belonged to the woods and hills of western Narnia.

Quite a few thoughts were interrupted when Caspian slid into the chair across from the siblings, after having a quick, low word with the First Officer at the door. "All is set. Captain Drinian reports that the wind is giving us good time."

"But good time to where, is the question," said Lucy as she leaned on the armrest nearest her brother. Edmund amusedly thought that, had she been younger, she would probably have commandeered his lap; obviously, his sister had missed him as much as he had missed her.

"Who knows?" answered Caspian, but he did not look worried. In fact…

Edmund eyed his fellow king speculatively. "You're quite happy about this, that you didn't find all the lords on the Lone Islands. You're happy about having to sail east beyond the known world."

Caspian shrugged, but the show of nonchalance was belied by an excited gleam in his eyes. "I'm worried about the missing people and lords, of course. But to sail east, exploring new lands, and now with what Lord Bern said…" he trailer off.

"What do you mean?" asked Lucy encouragingly.

Suddenly agitated, Caspian stood and paced near the window. "About my…my mother and her dream." He looked at his two friends and gave them a sad smile. "I never knew that about her – that she had true dreams, that it was in her blood."

"Galman blood, most like," said Edmund, rubbing his chin. "Several Galmans who settled on the mainland during our reign 'dreamed truth'. Remember, Lu, like Sir Peridan's son, Perin?" Lucy nodded, remembering the little six-year old who had thrown a huge tantrum trying to keep Edmund and Susan from visiting Prince Rabadash in Calormen because of his nightmares. "The Galmans said it was a gift of Aslan, but they were wary of trying to interpret them because they were often metaphoric and vague. I never heard of that gift among the Telmarines, however."

"My mother's line, though noble, was always considered odd by the other Telmarines; she was the first of that house to marry into the royal line. But the thing is," Caspian changed tracks slightly, "if _she_ could dream truth, what if…what about _my _dreams?"

Had Eustace been in the room, he would have scoffed loud and long about how prophetic dreams were nonsense, and inherited dreams were a completely ridiculous idea. But thankfully Eustace was not in the room, and neither Lucy nor Edmund thought Caspian had said anything outlandish. Edmund fixed Caspian with a piercing stare. "Do you have reason to believe your dreams are like your mother's?"  
Caspian ran a hand through his hair, then sat again in front of Lucy and Edmund, his elbows resting on his knees. "When we started building up Narnia's navy in response to Calormene aggression, we were creating mostly ships that were built for swiftness along the coast. After all, our best hope was to contain the Calormene fleet and not let them get their superior numbers to open sea. But after our victory at the Bight, I began having dreams, the same dream." The king's eyes unfocused slightly in remembrance as he related the dream. "I was on the Eastern Shore, near Cair Paravel, walking along the sand when the sun rose over the horizon. It was…like no sunrise I had even seen before: larger, brighter, more beautiful. I wanted nothing more than to go closer, but I was trapped behind the vast, dark ocean. Then, out of the sun came a blue star. It drew near me, lighting a path on the sea towards the sun. I heard a voice, a voice that was like Aslan's yet different, rise out of the sun. It simply said: "Come." And, despite the fact that the ocean stretched before me, my heart's desire was to follow the voice and so I began walking forward. I found that I could step on the water where the blue star had lit the pathway, but before I could reach the sun, I dream is one of the reasons I had the _Dawn Treader_ built – in order to sail out into the Eastern Sea."  
The three were silent in thought after Caspian finished speaking. Even as Caspian had described the dream, Edmund and Lucy had almost seen it played out before them, as they had the dreams of Perin Peridanson and some of the other Galman settlers. Lucy said as much to Caspian, and suggested that his dream was a confirmation of his mother's dream: that it was Caspian's destiny to seek out and defend Narnia against the green mist.

Edmund was not so sure; however, he did not say as much, particularly since Caspian was so happy to have a connection to the mother he never knew. But to him it seemed that, whereas the late queen's dream was a warning, Caspian's was meant to instill a desire for an eastward journey and what he might find at the end. Nonetheless, Edmund was not completely sure of his observation, and so kept quiet, save for one piece of advice: "It can be dangerous to try and conform to an interpretation of a dream. It would probably be best to focus on our search for the lords, and aid them on their quest to find the source of the green mist."

Lucy agreed. "The Galmans believed that their dreams came from Aslan on the sound of the waves, and that any could hear them if they tried. But they also believed that the violence of the seas and stormy waves caused their dreams to be faint and perhaps distorted. There were tales of false dreams as well, of some evil that polluted the truth they were shown. Ed's right, we should be careful."

Caspian was slightly disappointed; he had thought it would be a great advantage to know what might happen in advance, but he conceded that Edmund and Lucy's hesitations were valid. The older king consoled himself by asking his friends to share their stories of how they had come again to Narnia. While he had already heard Lucy's, he knew Edmund had not, and that neither he nor Lucy had heard Edmund's tale of leaving Spare Oom.

Edmund laughed as Lucy recounted her struggles with a panicked Eustace. "I wish I could have seen his face when the water started coming out of the painting! Magic goes so much against the scientific order he always prattles on and on about." Lucy admitted that, in retrospect, it _had_ been pretty humorous. Once the story reached their running into the _Dawn Treader_, Caspian jumped in and helped Lucy relate their few days together on ship, and a more expanded version of why they had been captured by Gumpas on the Lone Islands. Namely, it had been that they had let Eustace come along and had not kept him within arm's length at all times, leaving him to be easily caught and used against them.

"I suppose we should apologize for ruining your plan," said Caspian, "and all the trouble you probably had to go through to work out a backup plan as well."

"It was not such a big deal and, really, your presence just sped things up – eventually the Lone Islands would have sent a request for aid to Narnia."

Lucy shook her head. "I'm just glad we didn't have to wait weeks or months to run into you, Ed. After all, last time you ended up in Narnia half a continent away and four months early, even though you were standing right next to Peter, Susan, and me. I could only imagine where you might have ended up if you came to Narnia from on board a ship in the North Atlantic." When Edmund did not quite look her in the eye, Lucy frowned. "You _were_ on a ship in the Atlantic, weren't you?"

"Er," Edmund shifted in his seat. "Perhaps I was more in the water _next _to a ship in the Atlantic?"

Caspian was caught off-guard when Lucy's face paled dramatically. He felt like he was missing a vital clue. "You…fell off a ship?" he asked, confused; Edmund, like Lucy, was incredibly steady on deck and would not likely be washed into the sea easily.

Lucy's hands tightened on the arms of her chair. "_Tell us_ you just fell off the ship," she nearly pleaded, knowing too well what Edmund being in the water of the Atlantic might mean.

Edmund cringed, but shook his head. "There may have been an…encounter. With the enemy. But I saw the escorts nearing, so I'm sure we don't have anything more to fear from the U-boats," he hurried to add to reassure a distraught Lucy. At least, he was pretty sure one of the escorts was going after the U-boat; his memories of the moments before being pulled into Narnia were still a bit fuzzy. Edmund did not think it would be a good idea to tell Lucy that, however; she was already upset over what little he _had _revealed. He was not going to upset her further by informing her about his already-healed head wound. And most certainly he was not going to tell her that his ship had been torpedoed, that his lifeboat had overturned, and that he had been thrown into freezing, oil-covered water. He rather valued his life, thank you very much.

As he connected the conversation to Lucy's previous mention of a war, Caspian realized the danger Edmund was in from a worried little sister, and jumped in to rescue his adopted brother. "You are here now, that is what matters. And we have a quest to fulfill."

"Two quests," said Lucy, who was still looking at Edmund in worried suspicion. "To find the seven lords, and to rescue the Lone Islanders from whatever is behind the green mist." And yet, none of them could forget Caspian's dream and the feeling that there was a third, and greater, quest in store for all of them.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_This whole thing is getting worse and worse. I was dragged to an island where I was nearly sold into slavery. Thankfully, none of those foul-smelling pirates understood how valuable I am, what with my superior intellect, and so I wasn't sold – they probably wanted some muscle-head with all brawn and no brain. There was some hullabahoo and apparently my initial captors took over the country by having my cousin scare the rightfully elected governor into giving up power._

_Oh, that's right: Not only am I stuck in this place with goody-goody Lucy, but Edmund is here as well. I thought he was off getting shot by Germans (and good riddance, as my mother would say), but no such luck. And just like that idiot Caspian said Lucy was a queen (hah!), apparently Edmund is also a 'king' (double hah!). There must be something in the water here._

_I am dismissing the thought that all this is a hallucination, though, caused by lack of decent food at home due to rationing. As strange as talking rats and royal cousins may be, there is no way this _smell_ is anything but real. What with goat-men and cow-men, and that rat, I'm surprised I can sleep at all with the stench in the cramped prison they keep me in. I would think…_

_Oh dear lord, I may have to re-think the hallucination idea again. Right where I left off the last sentence, I had just been interrupted by the rat telling me that more land had been spotted. Desperate to get away, and perhaps find a British Consulate at this place, I convinced my cousins and 'King' Caspian that I would be necessary addition to the landing party._

_I wish I hadn't._

.

Edmund rolled his eyes as Eustace lumbered clumsily out of the boat and onto land. He finally understood why Caspian and Lucy had brought the boy with them when first exploring the Lone Islands: giving in was the only way to shut him up. Plus, there might be a happy chance that there was something dangerous on this island…no, that was not nice of him. He really should try to rein in the worst of Eustace. After all, Eustace was a boy and Edmund was a king; he had dealt with worse personalities in his position as Chief Justice of the Narnian Courts. But, whether it was nerves left over from the U-boat attack, or Eustace's insane ability to get under the skin of even the world's most patient person, Edmund was less keen than usual to deal with the brat. Instead, he focused on exploring this place for any sign of the lost lords.

They were able to see from the curve in the shore that the island could not be all that large. A canopy of birch trees a little off the beach provided shade, while sea-birds squawked overhead. Due to the island's obvious small size, only the three sovereigns, Eustace, Reepicheep, and three human sailors came ashore on one longboat. They split up, Reepicheep leading the three sailors clockwise, while Edmund and the others went inland to search within the birch forest.

As they rambled over the exposed and gnarled root systems of the shallow-growing trees, Edmund could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with this island. It was a beautiful place, with the trees swaying in the hot, dry breeze. A little stream trickled from the middle of the island and was surprisingly fresh; it was not sea water. There was just something about the stream and especially the trees that was just…wrong.

They had disembarked late in the afternoon, so as evening began falling and the copse of trees thickened, they were forced to light torches. Edmund spared a moment to mourn the loss of his electric torch, but while Caspian had finally found it, after months of searching the area of the Beaversdam castle, by then the batteries had been worn out and it was now simply a relic from that terrible battle. So they were stuck with torches lit by fire, something that tended to make Edmund, Duke of the Western Woods, nervous when under a low tree canopy.

"What exactly do you think you're going to find _here_?" demanded Eustace as he nearly tripped over another root.

Edmund winced at the sight of the flailing torch, and caught Eustace's arm before he could completely fall over. "_We_ are looking for either the missing lords, or signs that they were here."

Eustace actually seemed a little intrigued, but that was soon lost at the intrusion of another tree root. The boy scowled. "Stupid trees. If these lords were at all civilized, they would have cut all the bloody things down and burned them," he said, kicking a small stone in front of him. The stone ricocheted hard off the birch root and disappeared into the ground.

Edmund's ire was raised at the ignorance Eustace showed, remembering the fate of the dryads whose trees were cruelly cut down by careless men. He would have given Eustace a stern talking-to, but he was impeded by the fact that the island suddenly shuddered beneath their feet, the earth moaning. It was not a hard shudder, but it was enough to stop them in their tracks.

"Wh…what was that?" Eustace's face had gone pale as he spoke the question they were all thinking.

"Earthquake?" suggested Lucy as Edmund knelt on the ground, dipping his hands into the sandy soil.

Caspian answered, but kept his eyes on Edmund. "It felt more like the movement of a giant. But that didn't sound like any giant I know. It sounded…bigger. And like it came from beneath us. Ed?"

Edmund ran some of the earth through his hands, and looked up at the trees. "This is wrong," he said with a frown. "We're too far south for these particular birches, and the soil composition is like nothing I was taught by the dryads."

Caspian looked closer at the trees. "They're wilting, brittle."

"But if they shouldn't be growing this far south, how have they grown and thrived?" asked Lucy as she placed her hand on the thick trunk of one of the birches.

"Look," interrupted Eustace irritably. "Can we just get out of here? It's getting dark…" Any further complaint ended when Eustace, starting to walk backwards towards the path from which they came, stumbled yet again on an exposed root. Only this time no one was nearby to steady him, and he fell hard on the ground, the torch flying out of his hand, tangling in a bramble which grew beneath the trees.

The four turned in shock as the bramble, brittle and dry from the hot weather, erupted quickly into flames. Flames which spread easily to the low branches of the surrounding birches, branches which were just as dry as the bramble. There was no time for recriminations, or even for trying to put out the fire, as the flames flew through the dry copse. Edmund grabbed Eustace's arms and hauled him to his feet, and the four began running as fast as possible away from the fire and towards the longboat. Edmund kept a firm grip on a stumbling Eustace, while Caspian and Lucy kept an eye on each other. Caspian, in particular, helped Lucy, since she was still breaking in her new boots from the Lone Islands and could not run as she usually could.

Then, suddenly, the fire was the least of their worries as the ground began shuddering again with a low, deep moan. Trees, in flames and not, began toppling over, yet another hazard in their path. By the time they reached the end of the island woods they could barely move forward. Not that it mattered at that precise moment, since they all stood still in shock as the shore came into view. The _Dawn Treader_, only a few meters out when they landed, was moving quickly towards the horizon.

"They're leaving us!" shouted Eustace, a new shudder tumbling all of them to their knees.

"No, we're leaving them!" came a small voice as Reepicheep and the others of the landing party stumbled into view.

They did not have time to ask what he meant as a great birch burst into flames above them, just as the shuddering of the island uprooted it. Edmund shoved Eustace toward the beach and launched himself onto the sandy shore, heart pounding and seizing as he desperately tried to avoid the falling inferno. But Lucy and Caspian had been slightly behind them, and in the direct path of the falling tree. "Lucy!" shouted Caspian as he grabbed the young girl and tried to roll away, covering her as much as possible with his larger body. Edmund found himself frozen as he watched the tree fall, watched Caspian and Lucy scramble away; he wanted to do something, go after them, but the crackling fire overwhelmed him, the sound of exploding seeds like that of shrapnel falling around him, the scorching heat of the flames coming nearer, Lucy screaming…

Then, without warning, the sand dune onto which Caspian and Lucy had fallen collapsed, just as the tree was about to reach them. The king and queen slid with the ground into the shallow ditch where Edmund lay, covering all three of them with sand. The fallen, fiery tree slid after them, and Edmund finally came to his senses. Coughing against the thick smoke, he scrambled over and grabbed Caspian's leather vest, pulling him away with all his strength. Edmund felt like he was suffocating, but he did not let got, even as the tree rolled towards them. New hands grabbed at Caspian and Lucy, helping Edmund pull them away, and pulling all three of the sovereigns to their feet.

It was the sailors, led by Reepicheep, who had seen their plight and braved the heavy smoke to help them. "Hurry," coughed one of the sailors – Rynelf, if Edmund remembered correctly. Barely able to put one foot in front of the other, the Narnians stumbled to the edge of the shore and through the surf. They finally reached the longboat, which had already been launched by a frantic Eustace – who had dashed as quickly as possible away from the fire, heedless of those he left behind. Edmund did not know if Eustace had fully intended to leave them or if he had just panicked, but they were all there now, at least. Edmund shoved his cousin out of the way, and took up an oar as Caspian and the sailors took up the others and Lucy scrambled to man the rudder.

.

It was only when they had rowed several strokes that Edmund was no longer half-bowled over with hacking coughs, and his eyes had stopped watering enough that he could look back at the island. Smoke rose high in the air as the darkening sky was lit by flames. It also…Edmund blinked and tried to focus his smoke-stung eyes. "How are we leaving it behind so fast?" They certainly were rowing as quickly as possible, but not _that _quickly.

Lucy turned to look over her shoulder, and the other rowers faltered in their task. Reepicheep climbed up next to Lucy. "It is as I deduced. _We _are moving in one direction, and _it _is moving in the other. I suspected the island was more than it seemed: apparently is can move of its own accord."

"That's impossible!" retorted Eustace. "Islands are formed by seismic activity in the earth's crust. They're built up from the ocean floor, they don't…move…" He trailed off as, in the distance, the island grew higher above the waves and then began slipping slowly beneath the water. The fires hissed out and steam rose from a large whirlpool which formed above the sinking island.

The crew of the longboat watched in shock. Had they been on the island, or too near it, they would certainly have been pulled under. The setting sun illuminated a final disturbance in the water as a great, fanned tail, about the size of the _Dawn Treader_ itself, rose above the ocean before slapping down and disappearing. The resulting wave pushed the longboat further away and nearly capsized it. Then the water was still, the horizon flat and unencumbered by the island which was no longer there.

Silence reigned in the boat; even in a land such as Narnia, such a thing as sinking islands was odd. But it was Eustace, predictably, who broke the silence. "Was that…was that a _whale_?"

The crew turned and stared at the boy, who looked as if he was more upset at the thought of an island resting on top of a sea creature than of just a plain moving island. Edmund caught Caspian's glance and silent humor passed between the kings. Caspian's mouth twitched and, against his will, Edmund let out a short bark of laughter. This caused Caspian to break down and begin laughing, an ailment that soon struck Lucy and then the rest of the longboat's crew. Soon the boat was filled with slightly hysterical laughter, laughter which came more from the relief of the close escape than from Eustace's words. Eustace scowled at the Narnians; even Reepicheep's attempt at assuring the boy that he was not an object of derision was marred by the Mouse's quivering whiskers and escaping chuckles.

00000000000

After calming down, the crew began rowing back towards where the island had left the _Dawn Treader_. Thankfully, the island seemed to have moved in a straight line, and soon the lights of the dragon-prowed ship were in view. Lighting their own solitary lamp, the longboat was soon picked up by a bemused and relieved crew.

After they had washed their soot-covered faces, Edmund, Lucy, and Caspian sat in the stern cabin, relating their adventure to Captain Drinian. The captain, a sailor his whole life, was less shocked by the appearance of the moving island than they still were. "Fastitocalon, it's called, a great whale that lures unsuspecting sailors onto its back and then sucks them down to drown in the sea. You were lucky to escape, your majesties."

"Do you think that could have happened to the lords?" asked Lucy. Her eyes shone with worry.

Edmund shook his head. "No. For one thing, those trees were quite old. Had the lords stayed there, the first time they lit a fire for warmth the Fastitocalon would have dived, destroying the trees."

"If it moves, even slowly, on a regular basis," added Caspian thoughtfully, "it may not even have been in their path all those years ago."

"Oh, I _am_ glad," Lucy sighed. "The whole thing was just unnerving." She smiled at Caspian. "I should thank you for saving me from the falling tree, Caspian."

He returned her smile. "It was nothing, Lucy. Though I'm glad we survived; I would feel terrible about leaving Edmund to have to deal with Eustace all by himself." He grinned mischievously at Edmund, and all four Narnians laughed: Eustace had sulked the entire way back to the _Dawn Treader_, and was probably still sulking in the crew quarters, so they could appreciate Caspian's sentiment. Edmund's laugh, however, was rather forced. Caspian had saved Lucy, but he himself had frozen. Frozen while his sister and adopted brother were in danger of their lives. He had never failed to risk his own life for those he loved before, never been so stricken with fear of…something, that something that he, in his weakness, could not bear to name.

The others did not notice his hesitation, however, and as the laughter subsides, Lucy leaned back in her chair. "If the tales of the Fastitocalon are true, I wonder how many of the other sea-tales are true. Remember, Ed, the stories of the island of dog-headed men and their perpetual war with the bastets?"

Edmund, forcing his dismal thoughts from his mind, grinned at his sister. The wolves in his guard had been fond of that tale. "Or the land of invisible giants who herd three-headed tigers?"

Caspian shook his head and chuckled. "And here I thought Captain Drinian's tales of sea serpents were outlandish." That his joked was met by a jumpy shudder from Edmund and a subsequent glare from Lucy surprised the older king. "What?"

"Can we _not_ talk about sea serpents?" pleaded Edmund.

Caspian shared a bewildered glance with Drinian. "Why? It's hardly the worst story out there."

Edmund's glare matched Lucy's; it was easy to see them as brother and sister when they looked like that. The king of Old Narnia crossed his arms defensively. "If you, while swimming unsuspectingly in the ocean, were dragged under, without warning, by a giant snake, which then proceeded to wrap itself around you and squeeze so hard your ribs broke…"

"Which punctured a lung," added an unhappy Lucy.

"...which punctured a lung," continued Edmund. "And if you then had been about to be _eaten_ by the snake, which had very large teeth, and were only saved by the fortuitous presence of a mermaid fish-herdess who, while swimming you back to shore as you tried not to choke on your own blood, told you that the snake was an _infant_ sea serpent, you would not want to talk about the possibility of another encounter either."

There was silence, and then Caspian weakly asked, "Dog-headed men, you say?"

Lucy nodded. "Don't forget the giant squid, which wraps its tentacles around prows to drag ships under water."

"Or Sirens," cautioned Drinian. "They can be a nasty surprise for unwary sailors."

The corner of Edmund's mouth twitched. "I think we may have an interesting journey ahead of us," he said, and then he threw back his head and laughed. This time, the laugh was real, the laugh of a man who had decided he was going to face the challenges of the future head-on and with all the strength he had within him.

0000000000

The encounter with the Fastitocalon had brought home to the crew of the _Dawn Treader_ that their journey would not be an ordinary one. Seeing one of the living myths brought many of the old sailing superstitions to mind. For this reason, even the considerably non-superstitious kings and queen were comforted by the brilliant red sunset that graced the sky the evening after the encounter with the living island.

Since Eustace was presently in the hold, arguing with Reepicheep over the superiority of a republican form of government, quiet reigned near the dragon-head prow. In fact, with only the sounds of waves and the low buzz of the sailors working behind them, the three sovereigns were able to converse pleasantly as the evening breeze floated by. At the moment, Caspian was relating the goings-on in Narnia to Edmund, who listening intently. Lucy, having already been told much of it, enjoyed just leaning against the carved wood of the prow and listening to her brothers talk. Cream, the ship's cat, leapt up next to her and she scratched the dumb beast behind her ears as the boys talked. It was not quite the same without Peter, but Caspian's Narnian-influenced accent was still pleasing to the ears.

"Hwella is going to be quite mad at me when we return home. I barely managed to convince her that a ship is no place for a Horse; when she finds out you are here…"

Edmund smiled, fondly remembering the young mare who was descended from his good friend, Philip. A more overprotective mother-hen you could hardly find, barring Peter whenever his siblings were hurt or in danger. "She is doing well, then?"

"Yes, she enjoys her self-appointed position as King's Guardian," Caspian rolled his eyes. "As if I needed another person hovering over me."

With a laugh Edmund commented, "Indeed, it says much for Captain Drinian's character that Hwella and your generals allowed you on this journey without them."

Caspian shrugged. "Drinian proved himself at the Bight of Calormen. Plus, neither Hwella nor Glenstorm would do well on board a ship, and I could hardly take Glozelle away from the new baby."

"Baby?" Lucy sat up straighter; Cream did not like the startled movement, and so she mrowled her displeasure and shot off to seek Pith, the sailor who was her primary caretaker. Lucy vaguely regretted the cat's desertion – she was a sweet little thing, and so very devoted to Pith – but she wanted details on this! "He's married, then?"

"Two years ago," answered Caspian with a smile. "He married Lady Mareteya of Beruna after returning from the campaign against the giants. The baby was born about six months before we set sail."

"Well?" asked Lucy. "Is it a boy or a girl? What's its name? Caspian, really, you can't just say 'They had a baby'; you have to give details."

Caspian received no sympathy from Edmund, who smirked at the hole the older king had dug himself into. He should know better than to mention babies in front of a _girl_. Muddle-headed, the lot of them, when it came to infants. "Mareteya gave birth to a healthy baby girl. They named her Glamir, after Glozelle's sister, and she has her father completely wrapped around her little finger. I pity the man who wants to court her in the future."

Edmund made a face. "Ugh, suitors – the bane of every father and brother's existence."

"Oh, I don't know," said Lucy as she nudged her brother with her shoulder. "_I _thought some of them were quite pleasant. Duke Ivin wrote such lovely poetry…"

Slightly alarmed at the prospect of talking, even thinking, about Lucy's suitors, Edmund shot Caspian a panicked look. Caspian, also not pleased at the idea of men courting Lucy, quickly moved to change the subject. "I am just thankful Glozelle and Glenstorm agreed that I could leave on this journey without them and half the army. Though they may be less than pleased when they find out we are sailing beyond the Lone Islands; I believe they thought it not very likely that the Lords would have done so."

Lucy, realizing that she would not be getting more information on little Glamir, sighed and returned to leaning against the prow. Edmund just shook his head. "I'm sure they'll understand the necessity: they understand oaths of honor, as well as the duty to find the missing Islanders."

"Yes," agreed Caspian, "and I daresay the generals can't complain that the crew isn't experienced enough. Most of these men fought at the Bight of Calormen with me. I may not know them as well as I would like, but I trust them unreservedly, as does Glozelle; and Glenstorm trusts his judgment."

"There is something about fighting alongside someone," said Lucy quietly, "that brings about a great trust and camaraderie." She had experienced this less than her brothers for, however Valiant she was, Lucy tended to fight in individual battles and not the long campaigns that so greatly fostered that sense of brothers-in-arms.

Edmund looked away from his companions and out to sea. The waves were calm, not choppy and cold like they had been in the Atlantic, but that was where his mind had wandered. He wondered how Taffey – Jones – was doing, if his lifeboat had gotten away safely. Jones was a good sailor, but young and had never had to abandon ship in the middle of battle before; how was his friend handling it? Edmund hoped Merrick would not cause too much trouble; still, Edmund had sensed an inner strength to the photographer that would help him greatly. Unwanted, Edmund's thoughts turned to Mickey, and the laughing smile now gone forever. His right hand moved automatically to the knotted rope that was still wrapped around his left wrist, and his fingers traced lightly over the woolen beads.

"Ed?" Blinking, he focused his eyes back on his present companions, who were wearing identical worried expressions. Lucy laid a gentle hand on his right arm. "Which battle?" she asked softly, knowing from the look on her brother's face that he was caught in a memory of comrades lost.

While usually Edmund would only speak of his harder memories with Peter, the eldest Pevensie was not here: Lucy was, and Caspian was, though neither was as close to Edmund as his older brother. Still, the Just King could practically hear Peter's voice telling him to let these two in, to let them comfort him. "This last…the U-boat," he answered his sister, an answer intrinsically more complicated than it sounded.

"Tell us," Caspian offered. His voice had not changed, but Edmund could still hear in it that Caspian now understood how battle could haunt a soldier; three years before there had not been enough time for the aftermath to really sink in before the Kings and Queens of Old had left Narnia. Edmund had left Caspian some written advice on this situation, however, and it seemed Caspian had taken the advice to heart. Even now, Caspian was not pushing for answers, only offering to hear him out.

With the memory of Peter's voice, the understanding in Lucy's eyes, and Caspian's quiet offer, Edmund felt less reticent than usual to talk about the battle and what was already lost. "The cook of our ship, Kostas Michaelides, was killed…"

Lucy, who had heard of Mickey in Edmund's letters, whispered soft condolences and hugged Edmund's right arm, laying her head on his shoulder. Caspian did not need to have heard of the cook before; he just heard the grief in Edmund's voice. "He was a close comrade?" he asked, gently encouraging Edmund to disclose more details; a trick Edmund had written down for him three years previously, and the Just King would have laughed at the situation if half his mind was not still a world away.

"He was," said Edmund, gripping the black rope more tightly. "But that's not what…I don't…" His throat was tight as he finally said out loud what had been bothering him since the moment of Mickey's death: "I think he knew he was going to die." At the shocked faces that met his pronouncement, Edmund could only give a sad smile and raise his left wrist so they could see the rope. "He gave me this, the very evening before the attack."

Caspian squinted at the rope in the fading sun. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Really," Edmund said as Lucy raised an eyebrow. "He would run the knots through his fingers as he prayed, but he used the words of his birth country and I couldn't understand him. I don't know what he believed it did for him. But this," he lowered his arm, "he always had this with him, no matter what."

"And he gave it to you," said Lucy as understanding began to dawn.

Edmund nodded. "Yes. He gave it to me and said he didn't need it anymore, but that I would need it to find the way."

Caspian frowned. "The way where?"

"I don't know." Edmund sighed and looked out to where the sun was just disappearing beneath the horizon. "But now, I can't help but think that he gave it to me because he knew he would die." Another sentence hung on the tip of his thoughts, the edge of his tongue. It was a terrible sentence, horrible words that made Edmund's stomach turn. He did not say it, he did not even really think it. However, not knowing that part of his mind, Lucy just hugged her brother and told him that Mickey would not want him to dwell on his death.

Caspian was about to say something along the same lines as well. However, it was at that moment that a pale blue sparkled at the corner of the older king's sight, low in the north-eastern sky. Caspian's eyes widened. "Look!" he blurted out, his arm slightly unsteady as he pointed. Was he just imaging it?

Yet Edmund and Lucy saw it too, and Lucy gasped. "Is that…?"

"The blue star," finished Caspian in an astonished murmur.

Edmund raised an eyebrow, but there was really no mistaking the identification of the blue light. "I was expecting something more metaphorical," he muttered with a small smile as Caspian dashed away from the prow towards the quarterdeck, shouting at Captain Drinian to turn portwards at an intersecting line with the star,

Edmund and Lucy got up to follow him and Lucy squeezed Edmund's hand. "Will you be alright?"

"I'm always alright," answered Edmund, squeezing her hand back in thanks.

Lucy sighed, not quite believing the relaxed look on her brother's face. However, she knew better than to push; Edmund had already revealed more than he usually would, and pushing would cause him to retreat further. Still, she frowned as Edmund's stopped moving and furrowed his brow as he looked out at the ocean, over the starboard side. "Ed?"

"I thought I saw…" Edmund shook his head and turned his attention to his sister. "It's nothing, probably a rogue wave. Come on, let's go save Drinian before Caspian orders the sailors to oars right before most of them turn in for the night. Mutiny this early in the journey would be a bad thing."

"Mutiny _ever_ is a bad thing," replied Lucy with a wince as she and Edmund made their way towards the quarterdeck and an excited Caspian. They now had at least an idea for a direction for the _Dawn Treader_ to take, and a sense of anticipation was building in their hearts at the sight of the blue star.

And starboard, a yellow-green eye slipped unnoticed beneath the sea.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Despite some misgivings among the crew, the _Dawn Treader _sailed east towards the blue star. Their guide had captivated a certain king, for Caspian instinctively felt that this was the blue star from his dream. Lucy was content to believe that the star had been sent by Aslan to guide their journey, but Edmund characteristically withheld judgment until the star's light revealed the shores of an island, one much larger than the Fastitocalon's delusive back. It was near sunset when they weighed anchor in a small, natural harbor. Unlike at their last stop, however, Caspian and the others knew that they could not scout enough of the area before sunset, so they all remained safely on the ship for the night. They might yearn to touch solid ground again, but it was not worth the risk of sleeping on an unexplored land.

As morning dawned, the blue star remained stationary, seemingly standing watch over the island. The ship was abuzz as much of the crew prepared to land and scout this new, uncharted island. In the stern cabin, Edmund and Caspian armed themselves as they discussed their strategy to search the island. As Edmund reached for his borrowed sword – a blade nicely melding Telmarine steel and Narnian forging – Caspian stopped him.

"I was thinking," started the older king, "that since these eastern islands could contain dangerous and unknown forces, that we should perhaps arm ourselves with Lord Bern's sword…and Rhindon." Caspian looked uncomfortable as he mentioned Peter's sword. While he had used it when fighting the giants – a tactical move, since even the dim-witted Ettins had a cultural memory that feared the blade of the High King – mostly Rhindon remained with the royal treasures as a symbol of Narnia's mighty past. Yet it was a strong sword, blessed by Aslan, and in a strange, possibly magical land, it would be a great aid.

Edmund frowned at Caspian. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

Caspian smiled, for Edmund had answered much as he had three years previously, when the Just King was teaching an untrained Telmarine prince how to be a confidant, Narnian king. "Telling you. You know of Rhindon's strengths and Bern's sword…well, according to my mother's dream it could have its own helpful properties. It makes sense for us to wield them on this journey." Caspian grew more solemn as he took Peter's sword out of the glass case in which it was stored. He held it out to Edmund. "Would you bear Rhindon, then, my king?"

With some regret, Edmund declined. "I told you last time, we weren't here to usurp your authority. We may know otherwise, but the rest of the crew might see me bearing Rhindon as a claim of authority. Besides," he added with a distant look at the sword given Caspian by Lord Bern, "I have more claim to that sword then I do to Rhindon."

Caspian nodded and bowed slightly as he sheathed Rhindon and gave Bern's sword to Edmund. The older king was slightly relieved to do so, since the sword seemed to him a reminder of the atrocities of his ancestors. But Edmund, despite its history, was fond of the memories this sword brought, memories of his friends: the Dwarves of the Seacliffs and the soldiers whose sacrifice was commemorated by the forging of the seven swords. "The Eternals," Edmund murmured.

"What's that"?" asked Caspian as he buckled Rhindon's sword belt around his waist.

As Edmund sheathed his own sword, still sharp despite the centuries, the younger king answered: "The Dwarves of the Seacliffs called the swords 'the Eternals'. They never said why." Edmund hid his emotions behind a familiar mask and clasped Caspian on the shoulder. "Come on, Lucy should have the boats ready by now." Caspian looked thoughtful but, adjusting the sword belt on his waist, the older king merely followed Edmund out on deck where indeed the Valiant Queen waited for them by the longboats. They boarded and were soon landing on a beach strewn with rocks.

.

That beachhead was quickly established. In fact, most of the sailors who came with them would remain on the beach to protect the boats…and the avenue of escape they represented. Edmund was still kicking himself for not doing the same on the last 'island'. No, he would have a way for his sister, his brother, and his men to escape should this adventure become too dangerous.

Thankfully, Caspian was amenable to Edmund's suggestions and had ordered Drinian to guard the boats, as well as Eustace, who the kings and queen decided should not be part of the first scouting expedition this time. They would have preferred him to remain on the boat, but Reepicheep had actually argued in favor of letting the boy taste land. So a sulking Eustace was left behind with the guard, while three scouting parties set off in separate directions, each led by one of the three sovereigns. Neither Caspian nor Edmund liked having Lucy separated from them, but they also knew that she, in fact, had more experience in exploring unknown lands than either of them. Therefore, Caspian went up the north coast, Edmund down south, and Lucy took her five men, including Reepicheep, into the interior of the island.

Walking slightly inland, Edmund's party crept silently through a young forest. The king had learned his lesson from the Fastitocalon and kept a careful eye on the trees. While correct for the climate and topography, the trees were still strange in a way that was niggling at the back of Edmund's mind. He was sure it was not just that some were new species, either.

It was only when they passed a grove of apple trees, just beginning to swell with fruit, that it hit him, and his hand went to his sword. The sailors with him did the same, automatically following the king's instincts. However, the Just King did not signal that he had seen danger. Instead, he was simply looking at the trees. "Your majesty?" whispered Rynelf. "What is it?"

"They're cultivated," came the answer.

"What?"

Edmund pointed at the trunk of the nearest apple tree. "It's been purposefully grafted. This island is inhabited, and by people with agricultural knowledge." Thankfully Rynelf and the others accepted Edmund's answer and did not question his knowledge of tree propagation (knowledge that had been hard-won from the dryads early in his reign). Instead, the sailors kept an eye on their surroundings, watching for signs of the island's native peoples. As they turned east, they began to see more indications of the inhabitants – pruned trees, cleared underbrush. The forest began melting away and the sparse trees were beginning to look more ornamental than tamed. Yet despite signs of civilization, there was no sign of habitation or population. Edmund had just about concluded that the island had recently been deserted when a horn sounded in the distance.

It was not Susan's horn, which was safely back on the _Dawn Treader_ since Caspian had not wanted to risk using the magic it held. But each of the groups that set out on the island had a horn and trumpeter so that they could relate information to each other. This horn sound was a message that began with the short trill of Lucy's signal and Edmund froze as the rest of the message sounded out clearly: We're under attack. When the horn ceased suddenly, Edmund's heart lurched.

There was no question as to what to do next, although Edmund silently wished that these sailors were his own old guard who would have known instantly the plan and proper formation without him saying anything. But, to their credit, it did not take long for Rynelf and the others to fall in line. Soon, but not soon enough for Edmund, the group was dashing north towards where the horn had sounded.

They moved as silently as possible once they reached the area. There was a rustle in the bushes near them as they slowed to take stock of their surroundings. Edmund and his scouting party readied their weapons, but a whistle relaxed their stances. Following the whistle – a communication learned in the war against Miraz – Caspian and his group stepped out of the shadows of the coiffured shrubs that towered over them. There were grim looks all around as Caspian and Edmund huddled to confer and form a plan of action. "We heard some movement to the east, but could not see anything," whispered Caspian.

Edmund nodded. "We'll go straight east, then. You take your men and flank north. Don't engage unless you see a clear opening." Usually Edmund would allow Caspian to call the orders, but this was his sister; he did not care about proper procedure at the moment. Neither did Caspian, who was entirely willing to follow Edmund's lead in this. Right now, what mattered was finding and helping Lucy and her scouting party.

As they headed east, the landscape grew stranger. The simply pruned trees of the outskirts grew more cultured and elaborate here. Shrubs took on strangely cut forms that twisted and towered, almost too-perfect. But it was the noise ahead of them that truly caught the attention of the search parties. In particular, they could nearly make out the strident, if small, tones of Reepicheep. This was gratifying, as no one thought any harm would likely have come to the queen if Reepicheep still drew breath.

Still, the voices were muffled and Edmund and his men approached carefully. Lucy's scouting party was seated in a circle, seemingly untied but looking around them warily. However, neither Lucy nor Reepicheep was in sight. There was no sign of the attackers, so Edmund motioned his group forward to check on the seated men. It was entirely possible that their bonds just could not be seen at the moment, and it was imperative to free the men and find out where Lucy was and what had happened.

However, once they came in sight of the captive men, one of the seated sailors shouted out, his eyes wide, "Leave, your majesty! They're invis…." His voice was cut off and the rescuers were confused as the man seemed to now be trying to pull something away from his face. Then, out of thin air, spears began whirling into the ground around the bewildered Narnians and their weapons were grabbed right out their hands. The Narnians attempted to fight back against their invisible foes, but most of them ended up knocked to the ground. Edmund was hit hard in the stomach, the air knocked out of his lungs and he collapsed to his knees. Even as he sucked in a harsh breath, anger welled up in the king and he scrambled for one of the fallen swords. He was stopped by his own sword, held aloft in empty air and pointed right at him. "Wouldn't do that if I were you," growled a voice without a body.

"Well put, chief." "Very well put." Came other disembodied voices surrounding the now helpless Narnians.

"Who are you and what do you want?" demanded Edmund as he slowly stood up.

Instead of an answer, one of the voices cried out in pain. Turning in the direction of the sound, Edmund was startled when Reepicheep dropped out of thin air, spitting on the ground, his whiskers tinted with a hint of blood. The Mouse grimaced in distaste and muttered, "Disgusting," before leaping towards Edmund. "My king," the Mouse began, continuing his nimble jumping. "These barbaric creatures came upon us without first declaring hostile intentions." Edmund knew that the leaping around was to keep from being caught and held by the invisible enemy, but really, it was hard to concentrate on Reepicheep's words with all the movement. "They have forced…Queen Lucy…with threats…to enter…" Reepicheep was visibly tiring, "an invisible…house…holding…a sorcer-argh!" The Mouse had apparently leapt right at one of the creatures who had caught him tightly. It seemed that things which were held by the invisible beings were also made invisible, as Reepicheep disappeared, albeit the sounds of his struggle remained.

"Watch the teeth!" "Hold it still!" echoed the voices, but they were not so loud that Edmund could not hear a soft, questioning whistle on the air. Caspian and his men, in position to the north, were asking if they should attack. Edmund's original orders – don't engage unless you see a clear opening – were not a helpful guide at this point since no one could actually _see_ anything about the enemy. Unfortunately, considering that anything the beings held was also hidden, it meant the Narnians had no knowledge of what kind of weaponry or defenses the enemy might be concealing. Edmund made a low hand signal, ordering Caspian and the others to remain where they were. No use getting them all captured or killed.

But Edmund still wanted to know more about these creatures and their plan for Lucy. "What do you want my sister for?"

"To read the spell," came the gravelly voice which Edmund was beginning to associate with the leader of the invisible beings.

"That's right!" "The spell!" "To make the unseen seen again!"

It was the last comment which caught Edmund's attention, as it indicated that invisibility might not be the natural state of these creatures. "Why Lucy, though?"

The voice answered confidently: "Only girls can read."

"Then why doesn't one of your own women read the spell?" demanded a sailor from Edmund's captured party. There was an agreeing murmur among the Narnians; they were quite protective of their queen and the only lady aboard the _Dawn Treader_. Edmund silenced them with a look, but the enemy did not seem to sense the threatening attitude of their captives.

"It's too dangerous in the house of the magician."

"You said it chief!" "Too dangerous." "Won't send our women there."

The burning anger in Edmund's chest was threatening to spill over his control. "And yet you sent _my sister_ into danger!"

There was a pause, and then one of the invisible creatures piped up: "We don't want to be invisible no more."

"No!" "We don't like it!" "And if she don't do it, we'll kill you all!" shouted the chief. "Yes, kill them!" "Well put, chief."

Despite his simmering anger, Edmund held out his hands in a placating gesture. "All right, we get it. Lucy makes you visible, we all leave happily." The invisible creatures continued chattering among themselves, but most of them moved away from the topic of killing, for which the Narnians were thankful.

Edmund continued to remain standing, while most of his men stayed warily on the ground where the creatures had knocked them. Deciding he probably would not get much more out their enemies – some of them were already discussing if it was going to rain or not – Edmund stayed silent and watched the empty spaces around them. Rather loud thumps seemed to indicate movement, and he could vaguely see the impression of large feet in the closely cut grass. From the size, he would have guessed giants, but while the chief's voice, and some of the others, came from the air above Edmund's head, some of the voices came from the air below. He also closely watched the creature which held his sword – or rather, he watched his sword as the hilt and first few inches of the blade were invisible, while the extended blade was clearly visible. As the creature moved it about – and Edmund could not help but wince at some of the wild swings – the sword would disappear and reappear at various times. It seemed that the invisibility that enveloped the creatures extended partly around them, but had a bounded limit.

.

As time passed, Edmund grew more and more frustrated. Despite the fact that he could now at least guess at the location of the enemy creatures, there was little he could do with the information. Reepicheep had finally been let go, but two spears held at him kept the Mouse silent, so there was no new information from that corner. This left Edmund too much time to contemplate just what Lucy might be going through. Magic-users were hardly ever good news, and if this one had the ability to turn people invisible, who knew what else he could do to Lucy?

It was only when Edmund was nearing the end of his tether that the air around them seemed to ripple. Watching carefully, Edmund began to make out distorted colors in the air, then different shades, then rounded shapes. It took a long moment before the rippling seemed to move on and the Narnian could see the result: the result being that they could actually _see_ their captors. And yet even the Narnians, used as they were to strange creatures, were surprised by these. At first glance they seemed to be merely dwarves, some standing on their fellows' shoulders; but then, looking down, these dwarves only had one, giant leg and foot, a foot that was nearly as long and wide as the dwarves were tall.

The startling sight did not stall Edmund and the Narnians for long. They took advantage not only of being able to see the creatures, but also the creatures' own surprise at being visible, and moved quickly. Within minutes, the Narnians had risen up, disarmed the creatures, and turned captors into captives. This was aided by the introduction of Caspian and his men, now able to attack as well.

His sword back in hand, Edmund toward over the one-legged dwarf who he believed was the chief. The dwarf gulped at the fire in Edmund's eyes. "You will show me where you sent my sister, or so help me I…"

"Ed, look!" Edmund turned to where Caspian was pointing. Out of rippling air a large mansion was now emerging. It must be the house of the magician, judging by the alarmed looks on the monopedal dwarves' faces. "Lucy," said Caspian as he grimly looked up at the large building, echoing Edmund's thoughts.

Edmund was already moving towards the mansion, sword in hand, when the large front doors opened. At first Edmund only saw the tall figure of an older man with a sharp beard and piercing gaze. Then, out of the door stepped Lucy, alive and smiling. Both Edmund and Caspian sheathed their swords at her unconcerned demeanor, but they still walked forward quickly to meet her. Edmund put his hands on her shoulders. "You alright, Lu?" he asked, lightly digging his left thumb over her collar bone. Lucy squirmed automatically, since that was one of the places she was most ticklish, but that was what Edmund was looking for. They had found long ago, quite on accident, that enchantments of the mind hindered skin sensitivity to the point that it considerably lessoned irritation reflexes. It was not a perfect test, but the fact that Lucy was still ticklish was a good indication that the magician did not have her under a spell.

Lucy rolled her eyes, but smiled in understanding. "I'm fine, and I really was never in any danger." Edmund nodded and pulled back, turning his attention to the magician. Lucy proceeded with introductions. "This is Coriakin; this is his island. Sir, this is King Caspian and King Edmund."

The man bowed with a soft greeting, but the one-footed dwarves seemed to take exception at Lucy's introduction. "His island? That's what he thinks!"

"Yah, it's our island!" "He kept us invisible!" "Oppression, I tell you." "Very true." "Oppressor!"

Resigned irritation crossed Coriakin's face. "I am not oppressing you." He stepped toward the dwarves, but they squeaked and began jumping away. "I have only ever tried to protect you." It was a useless effort as they dwarves bounded away, jumping to ridiculous heights with their single feet, shouting about oppression the whole time. As they left, Coriakin sighed. "Dufflepuds," he commented, almost fondly, as if the word itself explained everything. Glancing at the retreating figures, one of which had accidentally flung himself against a tree trunk, Edmund could almost believe it did.

Then came the awkward moment where no one really knew what to do next. Finally, Edmund suggests: "We should return to our camp and report the situation to Captain Drinian. The others likely heard the horn as well, and will be anxious for news." Caspian's trumpeter had already signaled an "All is well" but the other Narnians likely would not be relieved until they saw for themselves that everything was all right.

Edmund did not like the fact that he could not read Coriakin's smile. "Your majesties," the man said, "my mansion and gardens are much better protected from the storms that often sweep over the island. Your ship should be fine in the harbor, but perhaps you would care to move your camp to the pavilion on the east side of the house?" His smile smoothed into a firm line. "And I believe there are things we need to discuss before you continue your journey."

Lucy seemed amenable to this, as did Caspian, but the older king caught Edmund's concerned frown and decided to answer diplomatically. "We must, of course, discuss our course of action with Captain Drinian, but we thank you for your offer, sir."

Coriakin bowed, hand over heart, and the three sovereigns returned the acknowledgement. The Narnians set off for the camp; there was little discussion, most of the Narnians still wary after their run in with the invisible Dufflepuds. They saw hints of the creatures as they walked, but mostly the Dufflepuds stayed out of their way. That is, except for one female Dufflepud, an older matron, who boldly stepped in front of them, dragging the chief Dufflepud by his ear. The woman smiled apologetically. "Sirs and ma'am, my husband has something to say."

She jerked the chief's ear and he howled in indignation and pain. "Sorry! We're sorry!"

"That's better," muttered the female Dufflepud. She curtseyed – a strange thing to see from a one-legged woman – and said to the Narnians: "These id'juts won't be bothering you again." And with that, she dragged her husband away, shouting at him about kidnapping little girls and playing with sharp objects and at least _they_ had a good reason for kidnapping and did he _want_ the magician to turn them all into toads?

Strange as the interlude was, it served to lighten the mood somewhat. At least, the Narnians were less afraid of a new attack by the Dufflepuds; obviously the first attack had been done without informing their wives, and the men were being put straight on that account. So it was with better spirits that they reached camp, to find their crewmates had been apparently been more harried than themselves. Half of them were mud-splattered, and several were nursing cuts and bruises. A traumatized-looking Eustace, completely covered in mud and sporting what looked like the remains of a daisy chain, cowered beside one of the boats. Pith, who in addition to being a jack-of-all-trades was also the closest thing the Narnians had to a navy chaplain, knelt beside him, trying his best to comfort the boy.

Concerned, Lucy stepped over to their cousin, but Eustace scrambled away. "I don't want to see another girl, _ever again_!" he shrieked, and so Lucy calmly backed away; better to get some answers first before going near him.

Caspian and Edmund felt the same way as the three sovereigns drew Captain Drinian, mud-spattered himself, to the side of the camp. "What happened here?" asked Lucy softly.

The usually stoic captain actually seemed slightly embarrassed. "Well, you see, your majesties, once you left we set about further securing the surrounding area. Some of the men felt that Eustace should help out as well. The boy refused and went off on his usual bit about being held against his will, wanting to go home, and all it. We're used to it, so we didn't think anything of it and went back to work. It wasn't until the boy suddenly stopped talking that we knew something was wrong. I turned around in time to see him floating away, arms flailing."

The three sovereigns looked at each other and chorused: "Dufflepuds."

Drinian raised an eyebrow. "If that's what the invisible creatures are called, then yes. I took some men and ran after the boy and his captors. We lost sight of him, but we could follow the, er, giant footprints." The captain's mouth twitched. "After some time we stumbled across a large clearing with a few small lean-tos, but no one seemed to be there except Eustace."

_._

_Flashback_

Drinian signaled for his men to halt. In front of them stood a motley collection of lean-to's, surrounding what looked like a town green, full of wildflowers. Sitting on the mound of flowers in the middle of the field was Eustace; his eyes were wide and terrified…and his head was crowned with a daisy chain.

As the Narnians slowly approached, they began to hear light, feminine voices in the air surrounding the royal cousin. "Oh, poor child!" "Captured by evil men!" "Monsters!" "Don't worry, dear, you're safe here." "Mama, he needs a necklace." "Blue, blue flowers!" "Oh, how sweet he is!" "Can we keep him, Mama? Can we?" "He has _two_ feet! And so small!" "Put a buttercup under his chin!" "He loves me, he loves me not…" "Aww, he's turning red!" "Adorable child."

The voices cut off when the Narnians, who still approached cautiously despite their confusion, were first noticed. Despite feeling ridiculous, Drinian cleared his throat and spoke to the air. "Madam," was as far as he got before the voices exploded into excited fury.

"The monsters!" "Mama!" "Don't let them take the child!" "Back, you monsters!" And with that, Drinian and the Narnians found themselves suddenly knocked around every which way. The road, dirt and muddy due to a recent rain, impeded the Narnians' ability to defend themselves. Drinian thought he saw one of his men hit by a frying pan, but was too busy trying to get away from one of the creatures who seemed to be kicking his shin. Bewildered, the Narnians started backing away as best they could, but most of them were knocked into the mud, helpless before invisible foes.

Surprisingly, they were all inadvertently saved by Eustace, who had taken advantage of the distraction of the attack to try and escape. Unfortunately, as he reached the muddy road, his escape was foiled. "Mama, don't let him get away! I haven't finished his bracelet!" And suddenly something seemed to crash into Eustace's legs and he tumbled face first into the mud. It only got worse as he tried to scramble away, flinging mud everywhere.

But it also caused him to find his voice, which had been lost in the shock of being kidnapped by invisible women. "Let me go, stupid things, or I'll have you arrested by the authorities for kidnapping and torture!"

The voices started murmuring and stopped actively attacking the Narnians. A little voice quivered. "Mama! He called me _stupid_!" And then the sound of a little girl bursting into tears echoed around the village green.

Almost instantly Eustace was pulled up by his collar. "We do not call each other names. Apologize to Beffy, now," came a firm voice in a tone recognizable to many children.

Eustace, not used to disciplining mothers, did not recognize the tone and continued to whine. "No! You're the ones who kidnapped me, it's not my fault. You're all just crybaby _girls_."

Drinian, realizing the maternal danger Eustace was in, gallantly came to the rescue. Standing warily, he bowed in a most general way and said, "My ladies, while we appreciate your desire to help our young friend, we do not wish to subject you to his most unbecoming attitude. Despite our best efforts, he continues to be disinclined to use proper behavior. He accuses us of various crimes in order to cover up his own lack of knowledge and manners."

"Lack of knowledge!" exclaimed an outraged Eustace.

"Please allow us to remove him back to our camp. We will continue out attempts to educate him in etiquette so that he becomes worthy of the concern you have shown him."

Drinian's smooth words seemed to be taken well by the invisible women. The leader of the group, after a quiet consultation with the others, answered for them all. "Thank you, sir, we will allow it. Forgive us our actions; we assumed the child was under duress and just wanted to help. Obviously he needs a firm hand, not coddling."

Eustace looked about to object when the voice of a young girl piped up, "But Mama, I wanted to braid his hair!" Eustace slammed his mouth shut and he began backing quickly towards the street that led out of the small village.

Drinian bowed and he led Eustace and his men back to camp. The captain could not help but chuckle as Eustace began muttering to himself and trying to fling away the muddy flowers that now stuck to his clothes. It seemed the boy had found something other than being kidnapped by Talking Mice to complain about: Girls.

_End Flashback._

.

Drinian shook himself out of the memory as he realized that the kings and queen were waiting for him to tell what had happened. "We rescued him," the captain finished simply, though the twitch of a smile suggested a longer story. "But how is not important, only that we made contact with the locals – the women at least – and are on at least neutral terms with them. May I ask what happened to you, your majesties?"

Quickly they filled him in on the invisibility spell, the Dufflepuds, and Coriakin. Drinian sided with Edmund when it came to assessing Coriakin's character. "Seems mighty shifty to me. Men who play with magic play with fire, as they say. Not you, of course, your majesty," the captain said, bowing his head to Lucy. "You had no choice in the matter and just used the spell-book to make the creatures visible again."  
Lucy shifted uncomfortably and Edmund frowned. "Lucy?"

The fact that she did not look him in the eye was telling. "Well, I had to know if the spell worked. Since I didn't have anything invisible with me, I tried a spell that covered the room in snow, before…I read the invisibility spell."

It was a logical explanation, which Caspian and Drinian accepted, but Edmund subtly tightened his hands into fists. He was already uncomfortable having to deal with a man of unknown origins using magic. There was a whole other layer of misgiving that stemmed from the fact that the sorcerer had a spell for enchanted _snow_. Add to that the fact that Lucy was awkwardly crossing her arms, a sign she was still hiding something…Edmund's internal alarms were blaring. Which was why he was opposed to moving the camp just yet, and even more opposed to the suggestion that they all four – kings, queen, and captain – meet with Coriakin alone.

"He seems perfectly lovely to me," protested Lucy, but Edmund was firm in his belief that they should keep the camp on the beach and that only he and Drinian should meet with Coriakin. Drinian agreed with the latter, but was forced to admit that Coriakin was probably right about a storm hitting soon and badly affecting the camp.

Finally, Caspian offered a compromise. "We can move the camp inland, but post regular watches. I think all four of us can meet with Coriakin, but," he added quickly when Edmund opened his mouth to object, "I think we should have Reepicheep follow us surreptitiously. As you know, since you helped train him, Ed, he can be nearly invisible himself, without a spell."

Edmund had to affirm that. "And he's so single-minded that it would be hard for the magician to lay an enchantment on him." Indeed, Reepicheep's overwhelming and oft-mentioned desire to sail to Aslan's Country was so deeply entrenched that little could shake him from it.

In the end, despite Edmund's misgivings, it was agreed to follow Caspian's plan and so the Narnians, along with a disgruntled Eustace, moved inland, back towards Coriakin's mansion.


	9. Chapter 8 (and a villainous interlude)

_Interlude_

As her pet sank back into the waves, she scowled – or, at least, the form she took at that moment scowled. _Coriakin, the traitor!_ In a fit of rage, she lashed out with her power, seeking to sink the traitor's island beneath waves, tear his form to nothingness, destroy all with a word. But, as always, _he_ stopped her, the Enemy's slave. Weak as he was becoming, stretched too far and thin, and limited by the work of her brothers and sisters eons ago, still he thwarted her. The winds and waves came, but not the cataclysmic gales she desired, not the destruction she lusted after.

She saw through her pet's eyes as it passed the ship, sheltered as it was in the traitor's harbor. Oh, how she longed to let her pet crush it, drag it to the bottom of the sea! But no, her power did no yet extend so far, and her mist could not stand against the protection it carried. Her pet would be her eyes instead, watching, growing stronger with every league the ship sailed closer to her dominion. She would send all she had against the Enemy's slaves, against the faith of the girl and the strength of the sea-king. And she would have her revenge against the boy who betrayed and destroyed the power of her greatest student.

Despite of, because of, her fury, she smiled gaily. If she could not punish the traitor, Coriakin, if she could not yet destroy these Narnians who were sent against her; if she could not do this, then she would content herself by playing with _his_ pet. That pitiful creature _he_ had sent straight into her grasp in a pathetic attempt to protect the toys she had taken from the ocean with her mist. Oh, the little ape and his sword may be in her way, distracting her from her fun, but how she enjoyed his torment! He would not last against her forever, and _he _would lose this champion; and the others would fall as well. The Enemy would not defeat her, strongest of the Great Lieutenants. She would win, and all would be overthrown to _her_ glory.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

By the time the Narnians had reset their camp in the large pavilion behind the formerly-invisible mansion, even Edmund had to admit that Coriakin was right about the weather. Already storm clouds were gathering in the east, and the Narnians were grateful that the covered pavilion, surrounded as it was by tall hedges of thick shrubs, would protect them from most of the storm. Drinian was anxious, however, to get through the proposed council with Coriakin, for he wished to ride out the storm on the _Dawn Treader_ and keep an eye on his ship.

So it was that Caspian, Drinian, Edmund, and Lucy entered the atrium of the mysterious mansion, Reepicheep following out of sight. The rooms seemed surprisingly homey, with warm fires and soft candles. Coriakin met them at the end of the atrium and led the group to one of the darker rooms near the end of the hall. The room was lit by a ceiling that shone as if covered with stars and moon, and an ethereal glow covered those who stood within. "As I said before, there is much that needs to be discussed," Coriakin said as he pulled a scroll from one of the many bookshelves that made up the walls of the room. His eyes seemed to glint in the false starlight. "You seek to protect those who are in danger from the evil that comes from the east."

The other men glanced at Lucy, but she shrugged: she had not told Coriakin of their quest. Edmund supposed it was likely obvious that their journey was at least related to the green mist and its dangers. "What can you tell us about the green mist?" asked Caspian.

Coriakin's face was still unreadable. "It is but a tool of a greater power. Its source lies farther and deeper." With a dramatic flick of his wrist, he unrolled the scroll across the floor. It revealed what seemed to be a map showing their present location; along the edges were scenes from the history of Narnia and the other lands of this world, with figures that seemed to move of their own accord. The map proper showed the sea and island as if they were miniatures on a war room table. Then, without warning, the island disappeared and the map seemed to zoom across the ocean until it showed a different island, this one dark and shrouded with a green fog. "This is where the great power lies. Kariz, it is called, and Hajik, the forbidden place. But to those who know its power, it is simply the Dark Island. There is your enemy."

Edmund studied the map, frowning. He had not liked the way the names of the enemy island had rolled off the tongue of the magician, the familiarity he sensed in the words. "How do you know of this Dark Island?" he asked.

Lucy frowned at Edmund's suspicious tone, but Coriakin actually smiled. "You do not trust me," the man said, unnecessarily for the distrust was obvious to all.

Therefore, Edmund saw no need to deny it. "I find it hard to trust those who play with magic."

Coriakin did not appear insulted. "Indeed, you do well to suspect those who could have turned their power against the will of Aslan." His eyes grew hard. "Had we met in the Age of Song, you would have been right to be wary of what I might do." The starlight on the ceiling dimmed with his words, and Edmund swallowed hard at the darkness which resulted. It was an oppressive darkness that devoured light.

Caspian's voice only shook a little as he spoke up. "Why should we not be wary now? What is the Age of Song and what did you do then?"

Coriakin's eyes were as dark as the ceiling, his voice low and resonating. "It is not for Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve to know the crimes a star can commit." The four humans in the room were startled by the claim, but Coriakin did not care about that. Instead, he looked straight into Edmund's eyes. Edmund was startled to see that, despite the deep darkness, there was deeper light behind the black night in Coriakin's eyes. And indeed, it was the light of stars, of the hearts of stars. The light sparked as Coriakin spoke again. "What I did, I cannot speak of, by Aslan's command. I will tell you this: it was through the love of my brother that I was saved and came back to the will of Aslan, which is where I remain."

Edmund tore his gaze away and his sight fell on one of the scenes along the edge of the map, which still glowed with blue water. It was an image of Peter fighting the White Witch at Beruna, as a dying Edmund lay nearby. Edmund swallowed again, looked back at Coriakin, and nodded. He understood.

The man – the star? – turned to the map, which seemed to fly to show another island as the starlight on the ceiling returned. "It is to my brother I send you." He gestured toward the island on the map. It was a tall land, covered in waterfalls surrounding a great mountain that reached into the clouds. "Ramandu is his name, and this is his island; the last bastion against the power of Dark Island. At its heart is the Mountain of Light, hallowed by Aslan, from which was carved Aslan's Table."

"Aslan's Table?" asked Lucy, her mind going to the broken Stone Table at Aslan's How.

"It is the holy table, set in the midst of Ramandu's Island, whose purpose has not yet been fully revealed to mortals." Coriakin smiled softy at Lucy. "But indeed, its brother in Narnia was also set during the Age of Song." He returned to his explanation. "My brother holds back the evil on Dark Island, which seeks to destroy all which Aslan has created. However, Ramandu's power is bound to the earth of his island, and it has been ever weakened. For during the Great War at the beginning of time, the enemies of Aslan cravenly took stone from the Mountain of Light, from the very stone from which Aslan's Table was carved." Edmund thought he saw guilt flash on Coriakin's face, but it was hard to see in the starlight. Coriakin continued: "The stone was given to a student of the Power of Dark Island, and from it she had a knife carved, a weapon made more terrible by its source."

Lucy gasped and Edmund stiffened. "The Witch's Stone Knife," murmured the young queen. The knife which had been used to threaten Edmund with a traitor's death, the knife which had killed Aslan on the Stone Table.

"Indeed," said Coriakin, "but only some of the holy stone was used and perverted to make it. The rest was kept hidden by the dwarf-slaves that Jadis forced to create the knife. It was many years before the dwarves used the stone, for a greater purpose."

"And what purpose was that?" asked Drinian.

Coriakin smiled. "To create the seven swords known as the Eternals."

While he was half-expecting it, Edmund still felt sick. Though unknowingly, he had commissioned swords that were brethren to the knife which had slain _Aslan_; he was even now _carrying_ one of them. Edmund could almost laugh at his dilemma: he wanted instinctively to toss the sword away from him, but he also did not want to touch the thing that had such a connection to _her_. His feelings must have shown, because Lucy shifted closer to him and grabbed his hand. "They're not the same: the knife and the swords," she protested. "The Eternals were created for a memorial, out of love."

Coriakin nodded. "The Mountain of Light was hallowed as a source of protection from Dark Island's Power. Although wrongfully stolen, the stone taken from the Mountain retains its purpose. Jadis perverted its strength when she used the Stone Knife for her own evil ends. At her destruction, Aslan returned the knife to the Stone Table, hallowed once more. The Eternals, however, have kept their pure connection to the Mountain for, forged and changed in fire as they were, their creation _did_ come out of love and grief, not evil and despair."

Edmund still was not sure he liked the connection of the swords and knife. But if Aslan could hallow such a terrible weapon…Lucy squeezed his hand once before letting it go, and Caspian moved the conversation forward by saying, "You said that Ramandu was weakened when the stone was taken from the Mountain?"

Coriakin turned to face the older king. "He was. Bound as he is to the island, the absence of the entirety of the sacred mountain has weakened him to the extent that the Power of Dark Island has slowly battered away his defenses. The Eternals must be found and laid on Aslan's Table, returned to the Mountain of Light. Only then will Ramandu have the strength to fulfill his duty and destroy Dark Island."

Another step in their mission was revealed, then. There were six more swords to find, which fit rather neatly with the six lords they were searching for. Speaking of which… "Did you tell this to anyone else?" asked Edmund.

The star shook his head. "No. It has been many years since another ship landed on my island, but those on it fled from the Dufflepuds." He elaborated when the four Narnians looked at him skeptically. "They were newly invisible at the time and they delighted in causing mischief."

Lucy frowned. "They've been invisible so long?"

"The chief's eldest daughter is rather precocious when it comes to sneaking in and stealing spells from my books," said Coriakin in way of explanation, "and my authority over their actions is limited by Aslan." He seemed rather resigned at this and Edmund could sympathize – he and his siblings had ruled their share of ridiculous subjects without the ability to change, or even influence, their nature. Marshwiggles came to mind.

Drinian's thoughts remained back on the fleeing ship. "It's possible that ship was that of the missing lords."

"They continued sailing east, but what they found, I cannot say," offered Coriakin. "Of what lies east, I know only of my brother's land and Dark Island." If he knew of Aslan's Country, Edmund had the feeling Coriakin would not think it his place to comment.

"How do we find Ramandu's Island?" asked Lucy.

Above the map, a miniature version of a familiar light suddenly gleamed brightly. Caspian sucked in his breath. "The blue star," he whispered to himself, though the others heard him clearly.

"Indeed. You have already followed her here. She will be your guide east – do not leave off the path," he warned with serious eyes.

The four Narnians nodded, but Caspian still looked closely at the replica of the star from his dreams. "She?" Caspian felt compelled to ask.

Coriakin just smiled.

000000000000

The council ended soon after, and Drinian left quickly in order to make it back to the _Dawn Treader _before the storm truly began lashing at the island. The others – including Reepicheep, who was content to assure them that no untoward magic affected the kings and queen – returned to the pavilion and the part of the crew that rested there. The storm picked up as night fell. Thankfully, there seemed to be an enchantment on the hedge surrounding the pavilion, for even thick shrubs were not _that_ good at warding off this intense kind of rain. While still slightly uneasy, Edmund reconciled himself with the enchantment by the thought that stars, like many creatures, were probably gifted by Aslan to use what, if used by humans, would be magic, but which was simply part of the nature of many Narnians.

It was a hard night. Most of the Narnian crew availed themselves of the food Coriakin offered, but the recent reminder of the White Witch left Edmund without much of an appetite for anything. When they settled on their bedrolls, sleep was hard to come by under the sound of wind howling like Wolves, trees creaking against the strain. Rain beat down like iron pellets on the roof, to the point that some of the Narnians looked out of the pavilion's open, yet apparently warded, doorway to see if it was hail.

The sounds drew Edmund into fitful slumber, where soon the pelting of the rain turned into the clattering of shrapnel on deck. His dreams were as vague and confusing as his memories of the U-boat attack, but images stood out: men trapped in the engine room, screams howling through the air as the fires broke out; the spray of blood and brain matter, a painting of the terrible silence coming from the fallen cook; churning water and panicked men. Then came the scream of twisted metal, the concussive blast of the torpedo hitting the ship, the oiled, fiery waves pushing them closer, too close to churning, deadly waters. A white light flashed, searing pain across his eyes, and then an explosion tore at his ears, through his body, to his heart, and with a gasp Edmund woke.

His heart beat wildly as another flash of lightning lit the pavilion for seconds. He laid there for a moment before the crash of thunder propelled him from beneath his already twisted blanket. In that time where one is not yet truly awake from one's dreams, Edmund only vaguely recognized where he was; but his instincts screamed at him to run, get away. And so he did, dashing out of the pavilion and into the beating rain, barefoot and wearing only trousers and a loose shirt.

Raindrops stung as they bombarded his skin, and he was instantly drenched. He did not care, he just knew he had to get _away_, away from the sounds of exploding metal, the flashes of lightning, the sight of helpless men, trapped, dying. Edmund slipped on the grass, which now was more of a marsh. He leaned on his hands and knees, both now caked with mud, his body still shaking with adrenaline. But the shock of slamming hard against the ground and the feel of muddied grass clutched in his fingers had woken him more than any clap of thunder, muting the memories but not completely silencing them.

Edmund's breathing was labored and harsh, and he realized that he did not know how long or far he had run from the pavilion. He pushed against the earth so he now sat on muddied knees. Looking around, he could see little in the dark, torrential rain, save the trees which bent in the wind, branches torn off and leaves shredded. Edmund groaned and tried to wipe some of the rain from his eyes with shaky hands, but the water was coming down too fast.

The young king groaned again and crumbled, bringing his forehead low, near his knees, and wrapping his arms around his bowed head. He was lost on a strange island, in the dark, in a massive thunderstorm, while his memories flashed with every lightning strike, ringing and bloody. His mind was a jumble of thoughts: _Lost, lost. Hurting, drowning, Peter, need Peter, help me, got to get away, coming closer, help, Peter, _Peter_, where is he, help me, just _help me_, Aslan, ASLAN. _"Aslan!" came the cry, torn from Edmund's lips as he threw his head back and screamed with the wind to the weeping sky. "Aslan!" A clap of thunder boomed so loudly that Edmund shuddered and jerked backwards, hitting his back against the trunk of a tree. Edmund squeezed his eyes shut. "Aslan," he whispered, and suddenly he was crying as the rain and wind pelted him and the tree above him moaned.

As quickly as the tears fell the rain washed them away, but still they came. They fell for the men left trapped in the ship, lost in the icy Atlantic waters. The sobs came for Mickey, smile turned to blood. And agony burned in his chest from the nameless fear he could not remember.

There was no comfort to be had, though. Edmund was alone, far more alone than he had ever been before. Peter was a world away, literally, and Aslan…Edmund could not recall when last he had felt Aslan to be so distant, so remote. Even Lucy and Caspian, whom Edmund might let comfort him in such circumstances, were far away, sound asleep in the pavilion. So the tears fell, in time interminable, until Edmund pulled himself together and forced the tears away himself.

His body was shivering, as much from the cool of the rain as from his barely checked emotions. Using the tree as a support, Edmund stood. He could not stay here, he needed to seek shelter. Exhausted from fear and grief, Edmund was not sure he could walk steadily, but his survival instincts were rising over his emotions and urging him to find shelter from the howling storm. He could barely see in front of him, but he began walking. He went into the wind in the hopes that it had not shifted, since he vaguely recalled the wind at his back as he had run, pushing him into the woods and away from the safety of the pavilion.

While he could see well enough not to run into any trees, Edmund was thankful that the woods were kept so tidy; he did not stumble over undergrowth nearly as much as he expected. Still, the going was hard, exacerbated by the fact that part of Edmund just wanted to curl up on the ground where he was and never move ever again. But underneath the screaming wind, Edmund fancied he could hear Peter's voice, worried and demanding he find shelter _right now_. So he continued blindly on.

It was only when he was able to see a small viburnum before he bowled it over, that Edmund realized that the rain and wind had let up slightly. Edmund frowned as he looked at his surroundings. In front of him was what looked like a low, giant mushroom with spots and shades of no apparent pattern. His frown deepened. The rain might have lifted slightly, but his internal clock told him that it was still hours until the first hint of dawn should be noticed. There were no lanterns that could hold up in this weather. So _how could he see?_

As he focused his eyes, Edmund realized that there was indeed a soft, white glow surrounding the clearing in which he stood. Outside of the glow the rain pounded and the wind howled, but within the glow the fierceness of the storm was held at bay. _Enchantment_, thought Edmund and he stepped closer to the mushroom, half-noticing a small collection of lean-to structures surrounding the area. As he drew nearer, he began hearing voices. Voices raised in song:

Rain, rain came out to play  
But we don't want no rainy-rain  
So rain, rain, go away

Wind, wind came out to shout  
But we don't want this windy-wind  
So wind, wind, make your way on out

Feet, feet rose to the sky  
And they do keep the water out  
So we'll keep our feet, now, by and by

.

It was certainly not the epic poetry of the centaurs, or the haunting melodies of the fauns, but the little song fit its little composers. Edmund squatted down and looked under the cap of the mushroom. He was unsurprised to find that it was not a mushroom at all, but a collection of Dufflepuds lying on the ground with their massive feet in the air. Huddled together as they were, the feet combined to create a massive umbrella that was keeping the rain and wind from doing much at all to the creatures.

Instead, the Dufflepuds seemed to be happily lying back, some singing slightly off-key, a pair playing cards, a few smoking pipes. One of the women was knitting a giant sock. Laughter and high-pitched squeals from the middle of the 'mushroom' told Edmund that the adults were likely surrounding a cadre of children. It was one of the most _homey_ scenes that Edmund had ever seen, and at first he was almost dumbstruck by the sheer contentment that radiated from this pod of Dufflepuds.

Then one of the Dufflepud men caught sight of him peering beneath their feet-umbrella. "Ah, it's the magician!" A disturb grumble rose up in the pod, but Edmund need not have worried for the woman next to that particular Dufflepud lightly smacked him. "No it's not, id'jut. It's one of the other Tuffets."

A small, pig-tailed head peeked out between the bodies of the outermost Dufflepuds. With a curious gleam in her eyes, the little girl asked, "Are you really a Tuffet?" She did not wait for an answer as she caught sight of Edmund's feet. A gap-toothed grin spread across her face. "He is! He is a Tuffet! Nady, Bop, look!"

The female Dufflepud with the knitting poked the girl with the blunt end of one of her needles. "None o'that, Lema. Back in the middle, foot up!" she growled.

"But Grammie…"

"Foot up! You're old enough to start practicing, and no arguing, less you want me ta take your dice away."

Lema rolled her eyes and Edmund winked at her, fully understanding the situation (in his case, it would have been 'Susan' instead of 'Grammie'). The girl giggled and moved back to the middle of the group. Edmund, who had twisted his head around so that he was at least somewhat looking at the Dufflepuds straight on, asked them, "If it is not too much bother, can you point me in the direction of the magician's mansion?"

"Deary, you don't want to go there." "It's dangerous!" "We can make room for you, if'n you like." "But he's a Tuffet!" "I wanna see, Mama!" "Hush, and foot up."

Edmund smiled. "Thank you for your concern, but I will be fine. I just need to get to the mansion."

At least four hands pointed, pretty much in the same general area. "It's thataway," said one of the Dufflepuds.

Edmund did his best to nod upside-down in gratitude. "Thank you and Aslan's blessings to you."

"And to you," chorused the Dufflepuds, in a way that made Edmund think it was an automatic reaction. Waving goodbye – and with another wink to the children who were trying to poke their heads out – Edmund began walking towards where the Dufflepuds had directed him. Once he left the clearing, however, the dim light disappeared and the storm picked up. He slogged through it, and was relieved when one of the mansion's towers, light shining on a balcony, peaked out over the trees. Moving closer, Edmund was not very surprised to see that the light on the balcony, which had the same quality as the light in the Dufflepud's clearing, seemed to emanate around the form of a tall man. "Guess he really is a star," Edmund muttered to himself, figuring that the man had to be Coriakin, using his powers to protect the Dufflepuds as best he could from the fierce storm.

"Your majesty!"

Edmund turned at the sound and squinted into the darkness. A small figure darted out of the bushes, lurching slightly in the wind. "Reepicheep?"

The Mouse tried to bow, but a gust of wind nearly bowled him over. Edmund quickly knelt, positioning himself so that the wind blew at his own back instead of at the small knight. Reepicheep righted himself and gave a proper bow this time. "Your majesty, are you well? I saw you leave the pavilion on my watch, so I had myself relieved and came to find you."

Edmund winced. He had forgotten about the set watches. Thankfully Reepicheep was not one to tell others of his flight into the storm. "You need not have followed me. I just…needed some air."

Whiskers twitched. "Nevertheless, my liege, it is my duty to watch out for anything…unusual. I would be negligent if I did not see to your welfare." And he was right to have done so; he could not have been sure that Edmund's sudden sprint into a severe thunderstorm had not been the result of a spell.

Edmund sighed. "Bad dreams," he muttered, his back tense at the confession.

But Reepicheep relaxed, the actions of his king finally making sense. He laid a paw on Edmund's arm. "Quite understandable," he said, but the Mouse was tactful enough that he did not press for details: it was not the place of a knight to do so. Instead, Reepicheep simply said, "Come, let us return to the pavilion. The queen would be most upset should she wake and find you missing."

This was true: ever since hearing of his plunge into the Atlantic, Lucy had been overly concerned with keeping Edmund by her side as much as possible. Edmund did not mind, for he enjoyed the time to be with his sister as well. He just wished he did not feel so guilty about the pain he had caused her, and the rest of his family, by following his sense of justice and righteous anger to fight back against the Nazis and their atrocities.

Edmund shook his head and stood. "You're right, we should get back. Lucy would have my head if either of us gets sick from being out in this." Reepicheep bowed and, with permission, scrambled up on Edmund's shoulder in order to better give him directions back to the pavilion (and to keep the Mouse from being blown about on the ground, but neither mentioned this fact).

.

It was not a long way back, but Edmund was still relieved when they arrived at the pavilion. The storm had not let up, and balancing a Mouse on the shoulder is not an easy task when the wind hinders your every move. Stepping out of the rain and into the pavilion was practically a shock to the system, as the dry warmth touched his skin. Reepicheep scampered down and bid Edmund a quiet goodnight before gingerly stepping between the forms of the sleeping men who crowded the floor, towards the small tripod brazier at the end of the round pavilion. The Mouse relieved his watch relief – Pith, a man known for his circumspection, Edmund was glad to see – and settled beside the small fire, sharp eyes on the lookout for any more strange happenings.

Edmund nodded politely to Pith as the man returned to his mat, before making his way back to his own bedroll. Thankful that his trousers had some measure of waterproofing and were already nearly dry, Edmund removed his sopping-wet shirt as he reached the area where the kings and queen had set up to sleep. Edmund held back a fond laugh at the sight that met him: On one side, Lucy had unconsciously stolen his blanket to hold, while on the other side of his bedroll Caspian…Edmund shook his head. Growing up an only child in a wealthy household, Caspian had been raised to be used to large beds, and had apparently never gotten over the tendency to spread out into every available space in his sleep. It had nearly driven Edmund out of his mind during their guerilla war against Miraz, when the kings had been forced to share quarters. It was not bad with the hammocks on the _Dawn Treader_, but now there was more room for the older king to move so that he was sprawled across both his and Edmund's bedrolls.

Edmund had learned how to deal with this, however. So he simply wormed his way into the small space between Caspian and Lucy, and roughly elbowed Caspian in the ribs. Heavy sleeper that he was, Caspian just grunted in his sleep and moved enough so that Edmund had some room to lie comfortably on his back. Lucy was partially woken by the movement, however. She blinked, blurry-eyed, catching sight of his still-dripping hair. "Rain?" she croaked sleepily.

"I went on a walk," he whispered back in reassurance.

Lucy fumbled awkwardly, half-throwing the blanket in her arms over his chest, half-shoving it into his face. "Catch cold," she muttered, before falling back into deeper sleep.

Edmund calmly moved the blanket so that it actually covered his bare chest instead of suffocating him. "Thanks, Lu," he whispered as the girl snuggled closer, unconsciously seeking warmth. On his other side, a still-sleeping Caspian tossed around until he was lying on his stomach. Edmund sighed when the inevitable happened and Caspian flung an arm over the younger king's chest and buried his head against Edmund's arm. Lucy crowded him on one side, and Caspian was trying to use him as a pillow on the other; he was being cuddled by both sister and brother, and had no clear avenue of escape. Already the air was getting stuffier. Edmund could not help what he did next.

He smiled and fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

By dawn the next morning, the storm had abated and the sun shone brightly in the eastern sky. Good men that they were, neither Reepicheep nor Pith said anything about Edmund's flight into the storm the night before, although Lucy did not quite believe that Edmund had merely decided to take a walk in the midst of a gale. In the daylight, Edmund felt more ashamed of his actions and despair, of the fear that was not so near under the sunrise. He put it behind him for now, however, and helped the others as they all recovered from the storm.

The _Dawn Treader_ had weathered the night well. The sailors busily patched up the few wounds she had obtained, while Cream the cat hissed her displeasure at having been left alone in the wet to any who neared her (Pith's embarkation calmed her – mostly because he brought her fresh fish). Eustace was no help at all, complaining as he was about the smell of wet animals and his still-muddy clothes, but at least he no longer cowered whenever Lucy came near him. The kings and queen lent a hand wherever they could, and attempted negotiations with the Dufflepuds for supplies. Lucy had the most luck, and the _Dawn Treader_ was soon packed with new goods in exchange for 'Tuffet' socks (which fascinated the Dufflepuds by their smallness) and agricultural advice from Edmund and a few of the sailors who were also farmers.

By the time all was packed and the ship readied, it was late afternoon. Still, the blue star hung brightly in the eastern sky, light flickering as if urging them to follow. So it was that Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy bid Coriakin farewell as they prepared to board the last longboat. The man who was a star bowed to them and gave a final warning: "Do not deviate from the star's path, your majesties, for the power of Dark Island will do whatever possible to thwart your quest, whether through violence or by using your fears and temptations against you."

Edmund shifted at that, remembering his fear from the night before; still he noticed that Lucy and Caspian looked uncomfortable as well. He supposed it was the way Coriakin's eyes could sometimes seem to bore into their souls. The kings and queen returned the bow and Caspian spoke for them. "We will keep your warnings in mind. Thank you for your hospitality."

Coriakin smiled and the three entered the longboat. Edmund looked back at the shore as they rowed away: Coriakin stood alone, but glimpses of interested Dufflepuds peaked out from the forest. A small voice called out, "Bye-bye, Tuffets!" Edmund waved back to where a gaggle of Dufflepud children were jumping up and down by the shore. As the children's parents rushed to herd them away, the Narnians in the boat laughed.

"They grow on you, I think," commented Lucy.

"Indeed," said Edmund, in purposeful imitation of Coriakin's deep, solemn voice, and the Narnians laughed again, even as they drew up to the side of the _Dawn Treader_. Once on board, they quickly set sail, moving out of the harbor to open seas. The blue star pointed them east-southeast, a course Drinian followed closely at the wheel.

.

The next day, Lucy was helping some of the sailors do some patching on one of the sails (one that was not presently being used, Edmund was thankful to see; for Lucy had no compunction about hanging upside-down from a rope to use her sewing skills on billowing canvas). Caspian was recording inventory in the hold, and since that was one of Edmund's least favorite jobs, he decided to live with the guilt and leave his friend to it.

Instead, he climbed the crow's nest and relieved the lookout up there. Having spent so much of his time in Narnia climbing the tallest trees in the Western Woods, Edmund had no fear of heights, and so he contentedly sat on the wooden planks, gazing out to sea. After the storm, the air had cleared considerably, and a cool, soft wind blew. Evening would fall all-too-soon, but for the moment Edmund let himself enjoy the heat of the afternoon sun.

Rather than dwelling on nightmares, Edmund forced his thoughts away from darkness to what lay ahead of them. He wondered about the Mountain of Light on Ramandu's Island, of the sacred stone of Aslan's Table. He had rarely dared to even touch the Stone Table in Narnia, despite the fact that it had always brought comfort when he did so. What would a hallowed mountain be like, or a table that still held that Stone Knife which had been infused with Aslan's blood? And yet, that land was not even Aslan's Country.

Edmund supposed the whole crew had been touched in some way by Reepicheep's whole-hearted desire to sail to the world's end and the country that was said to lie there. He thought Caspian's dream a testament to that, for the pull of the east was certainly on the older king, and it did not seem to be just a desire to follow the blue star. Edmund had heard several sailors speak off-handedly about sailing to the end of the world, and he knew Pith – devoted near-chaplain that he was – spoke often with Reepicheep as the two stared east (and while Pith held Cream back from her relentless pursuit of the Mouse). Lucy had the same, distant look in her eyes occasionally as well. Edmund recalled the conversation he had had with her on this same crow's nest on the day before Coriakin's Island had come into sight:

_._

_Flashback_

.

"Do you think Reepicheep is right?"

Edmund looked down at his sister, who sat next to him, high above the others. "Right about what?" he asked as his fingers deftly twisted the thick rope he was repairing.

Lucy's eyes remained on the eastern horizon. "About Aslan's Country. That it lies at the end of the world, and we could sail there, if our duty allows."

Edmund paused in his work, and thought a long moment before answering. "Well, this _is _a flat world, according to even the science of the matter if one thinks about it. And Aslan always came from over the Eastern Sea, from where even in our time some believed he had a home. Whether it's _Aslan's Country_, as we know of it…I'm not sure it makes logical sense. After all, Aslan's Country is where the dead dwell, so how could the living set foot there?" He smiled at Lucy. "But then, few things in this world are logical, according to Eustace."

They young queen smiled back, but her mind was still focused East. "I think…I think it must be a wonderful place. Narnia was always more beautiful when Aslan was there, even for a moment. Can you imagine what a country where Aslan always dwelled would be like?"

Rope forgotten, Edmund put his arm around his sister's shoulders. "Maybe, at the end of this, we'll get to see."

_._

_End Flashback_

.

It was a calming memory. If, at the end of all things, he ended up in Aslan's Country – one way or another – surely that was not something to fear? Yet it was still an unknown, still a dream, a desire. A hope in something shrouded by shadow.

The calm was broken when Edmund caught sight of movement far in the east. He squinted, trying to make out what it was. It was moving, fast, and by its apparent trajectory it would come quite near them. "Ahoy, bow!" he called down, alerting the others that there was something in front of them. Whatever it was came swiftly closer, and Edmund's eyes widened as he made out its form and color. He began scrambling down from the crow's nest on the rope ladder, shouting at Caspian, who was below him, as he moved. "It's the green mist! Hard to starboard!" The order spread and Drinian spun the wheel hard. The movement caused the ship to shudder, and Edmund clung to the rope ladder to keep from falling. Hurtling down the last few feet as quickly as he could, Edmund automatically reached for his sword; though, what use it would be against a fog, he did not know.

Lucy joined Edmund and Caspian as they raced to the port bow. The green mist came ever nearer, slowing as it reached the port side of the ship. A chill fell over the crew, and they all stopped in their tracks. Time itself seemed to slow as everyone on deck stared at the wall of deadly-green that towered over the waves. The sky seemed to darken as the mist loomed above them. It was entrancing, alluring, and yet repulsive at the same time.

A growl rose up from the mist, and suddenly Edmund could hear echoes of his nightmare, the sounds of battle and death, shrapnel and explosions and screams. Beside him, Lucy had paled dramatically and let out a strangled cry; on the other side, Caspian had taken a step backward, his face showing bewilderment and hurt. And yet Edmund, while he noticed their reactions, could not do anything for them, for he was overcome by the sounds of war, the feeling that he was back in the Atlantic, awaiting some dark doom. The others of the _Dawn Treader_ were similarly affected by the mist. Edmund, beneath the icy fear that kept him frozen in place, vaguely realized how vulnerable they were at the moment. Everyone was stuck, petrified in their own fears. Even Reepicheep struggled to move; granted, from his mutterings he was resisting far better than his crewmates. But the darkness coming from the green mist had fallen on all of them.

All of them except one, small cat who decided to use her minder's distraction to follow her one, greatest dream.

"Agh! Back, you devil!" shouted a startled Reepicheep as Cream pounded happily on his tail. The cat screeched in disappointment and pain as the Mouse rapped her on the head with the flat of his sword. The sound of the confrontation reached into the consciousness of the crew, jolting them out of the icy grip of the mist. Edmund shook his head, still hearing battle, but having a sense of the distance, the falsehood. As he looked closer, he noticed that the mist, instead of using their distraction for attack, remained just outside the hull of the _Dawn Treader_.

Edmund sheathed his sword, which he had unknowingly unsheathed as he stood before the wall of mist. He grabbed Caspian's arm. "Caspian! Caspian, we need to get everyone moving." Caspian blinked, looking at Edmund in confusion. Edmund shook his arm. "Come on! Whatever it is, _get over it_, we need to get away from here."

Finally, Caspian moved, and the two kings traversed the ship. Thanks to Reepicheep and Cream (the latter now hiding from the former in Pith's arms), most of the sailors were already starting to shake off the enchantment. The _Dawn Treader_ was soon back under way, moving quickly from the wall of green mist and towards the sparkling blue star. The mist growled, but did not follow. Instead, the wall collapsed and the mist flew westwards on the wind.

As the crew continued to pick themselves back up, still shaky from the experience, Edmund made his way to Lucy, who still stood portside, looking at where the mist had disappeared. "Lu? Are you alright?" he asked. At his voice, Lucy whirled and threw her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. Startled, but not surprised, Edmund hugged her tightly against him. "It's alright, it's gone, it wasn't real," he told her, his voice soft and low. He tried to consciously mimic Peter's voice, and how he would so often comfort the younger Pevensies. Edmund did this until Lucy's body stopped shaking, when he felt it was safe to ask, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Lucy stiffened a moment, before looking up at him, tears still in her eyes. "I…I thought I heard the sound of Chimerae and Efreets coming after me. It was terrifying," she whispered and then her face was once again pressed against his chest, and Edmund was back to using Peter's comforting words.

Even when she had finally calmed and left to go wash her face, Edmund did not call her on her lie.

0000000000

The encounter with the green mist subdued the spirits of the crew. No one could figure out why the ship had not been taken like those of the Lone Islanders, and the suspense turned their thoughts dark. Drinian encouraged the rumor that the mist feared the presence of the gifts of the Four Sovereigns on board; it was a logical guess, and kept the crew's spirits from sinking too low.

While even the kings and queen were still shaken from the encounter, they did their best to uplift the spirits of the crew. Edmund told stories of his sea-journeys during the Golden Age; Lucy was ever ready with a smile and encouraging word; and Caspian spoke often of the honor and glory of those who would sail into the unknown, even to the end of the world. Their work was not helped, however, by Eustace, whose continual complaints and declarations that they were all going to die on the ship did nothing to aid morale.

For nearly a week they sailed on without sight of land, mist, or anything else marring their route east. They followed the blue star, day and night, as she journeyed across the sky. As the memories of the mist began fading, morale picked up. Surely they would come upon something soon, whether Ramandu's Island or another land on which to replenish their stores. Unfortunately, as soon as things began looking up, disaster struck.

Or, rather, they struck disaster.

.

The _Dawn Treader_ groaned, jerking abruptly as if it had scrapped hidden rocks. She tilted, and sailors were sent flying starboard, across hold and deck alike. Caspian and Edmund, who were just about to make their way up from the hold, got tossed off the ladder, sprawling across the room. The supplies they had been carrying scattered, and the two kings looked at each other before scrambling to their feet. The floor below them was angled, and they unsteadily made their way back to the ladder and up to the deck.

"What was that?" Caspian shouted up to Drinian, who was struggling with the wheel.

"We're turning against the rudder!" shouted back Lucy as she stumbled across the slanted deck towards them. The three made their staggering way to the starboard side of the ship. From there it was easy to see that the _Dawn Treader_ was being forced into a sharp turn. A continuous sharp turn, in fact.

But there did not seem to be a cause. "There's no whirlpool," commented Edmund, which was the one thing he could think of that would cause the ship to circle against its will. Tilted as the ship was, they could not see the water beneath her to look for answers there.

"We should try rowing it out," thought Caspian out loud, and Edmund and Lucy agreed. The older king shouted orders for the oars to be manned to try and pull them out of the circular course.

The men worked for hours, but the most the oars accomplished was to level the ship for a while. It was not worth wasting the energy or manpower, so Caspian ordered the oars raised. They were well and truly stuck.

By the time the oars failed, it was nearly night, and there was little they could do in the dark. Men took turns at the wheel, trying to keep the ship upright as best they could. Few slept that night, anxious as they were about the situation. After all, they only had so many supplies, and if they could not break free of this net that had them sailing in circles, they would slowly starve to death. Only Eustace did not seem to understand the severity of the situation as he continued to mutter complaints about getting dizzy from going about in circles.

Dawn found them in the same situation, fighting against this strange current in the ocean, as the blue star shone steadily in the distance, a clear marker to how fast they turned. Drinian had just turned over the wheel, his face clearly showing his exhaustion as he spoke with the kings and queen on deck. "We have to send divers in, your majesties," the captain said, nodding gratefully at Lucy when she handed him a flask of cold water. "We need to find out what's going on beneath us."

Caspian was not so sure. "I don't want to send our men into the water without knowing _something_ about what they will meet. The danger…"

"…is no more than staying stuck here," interrupted Drinian, a bit crossly. "We can ask for volunteers."

"If you will pardon my interjection, perhaps I can suggest another solution."

The four turned and looked at Reepicheep who had joined them. "What do you propose?" asked Edmund.

The Mouse's eyes gleamed with adventure.

00000000000

"Are you sure about this, Reep?" asked Lucy as she finished knotting the rope around the Mouse's waist.

Reepicheep bowed. "I am without any doubt, my lady." He patted her hand. "I hardly even think I should need the rope; this will be no problem at all."

"Ready?" asked Edmund, who finished tying the other end of the rope to the rail, and held the rest coiled in his hands.

"Ready, your majesty," confirmed the Mouse, and he scampered over the port rail. Edmund carefully let the rope slacken with Reepicheep's movements as the Mouse carefully climbed down the side of the _Dawn Treader_. It was slow going, but soon Reepicheep reached near the water line. "Just a little more slack, if you please!" shouted the small knight, and Edmund let loose some more of the rope.

Lucy, Caspian, and some of the other sailors kept a close eye on the Mouse's movements. Even Eustace stood to the side, acting uninterested but still hovering slightly. Those at the rail watched as Reepicheep leaned closely to the water. He stuck a small paw into the sea, brushing the wood of the ship as he did so. For a moment there was nothing; but Reepicheep then let out a startled cry of pain. "Reepicheep!" shouted Lucy as she noticed a bit of red swirling in the water. The Mouse had no time to respond as the ship suddenly shifted and righted itself with a groan, before soon settling back into her circular course.

Edmund struggled to keep his footing, and the rope taut and high. As the ship settled, he started reeling in the Mouse, as the others watched anxiously – even Eustace, who crowded near the rail in order to see better. Soon Reepicheep neared the top and scrambled onto the deck, cradling his left front paw to his chest. Lucy was first to his side. "Where are you hurt?"  
Reepicheep grimaced and let the queen take his injured paw. "It is bitten, I'm afraid; but the wound is not deep, and should heal well. No missing limbs this time," joked the Mouse, clearly remembering his lost tail and Aslan's miraculous gift.

As Lucy tended the injury, Caspian asked, "What's down there?"

"Fish," answered Reepicheep matter-of-factly.

"Fish?" questioned Edmund, looking askance at the blood coming through the bandage now going around the knight's paw.

"A large school of fish – of a kind I have never seen – has swarmed beneath the ship. They appear to be so numerous, and move in such a way as to create the current we are presently stuck on. Some have attached themselves to the hull of the ship; they don't appear to be damaging it, but I would not advise attempting to pry them off." Reepicheep indicated his hand as he said the last.

"That's preposterous," butted in Eustace, who had been lurking nearby. "What, do they think we're a great, big whale or something to eat?"

He said this in a scoffing tone, but Lucy pondered the idea further. "You may be right, Eustace," she said finally.

"I am? Well, of course I am. I…"

"How so, Lucy?" interrupted Edmund before Eustace could get started.

"Perhaps these fish swarm and overcome larger sea creatures like this – keeping them going in circle so they can't escape, and feeding off them as they go."

Reepicheep concurred. "That does seem like what they are trying to do: nibble bits and pieces off of their prey as it tries vainly to swim away. Only they are getting no sustenance from the _Dawn Treader_."

"The blood," said Caspian suddenly. "The ship moved when Reepicheep's blood dripped into the water.

Edmund understood what he was implying. "They feed on living creatures and would search out blood, like sharks. They were drawn to a few drops, but it was not enough to move them away from the ship."

Caspian nodded thankfully at Tavros, who was moving the onlookers away from the group. Lucy finished binding Reepicheep's paw, while Edmund leaned against the port rail, looking down at fish he could not see from this height. After a moment, Caspian spoke again, asking Reepicheep, "Is there any way we could catch these fish? Perhaps we could make nets?"

Reepicheep shook his head. "They are small, your majesty, too small for any of our nets to hold. To make nets such as we would need for so many fish would take days."

"I don't think we have days," concluded Lucy morosely, looking up to the quarterdeck where Rynelf struggled with the wheel. The ship creaked beneath them, not meant to be taking such sharp circles. "But what other options do we have?"

"Someone could lead them away." Caspian, Lucy, and Reepicheep looked at Edmund, who was still staring down at the water. "Take one of the smaller longboats, leave a trail of blood in the water, lead the creatures away from the ship."

It was a terrible idea, but unfortunately one that could actually work. Lucy did not like it. "They'll end up associating the longboat with food, they'll never leave it while it remains whole. Anyone in the boat could never return to the _Dawn Treader_, or they would risk bringing the fish back with him."

Edmund nodded, hands still gripping the rail. "Which is why that person would need to be someone non-essential to the journey."

Caspian instantly realized what he was implying and his eyes blazed. "No, absolutely not, Edmund."

The younger king looked up, his nonchalant smile clearly a mask. "You can't afford to lose your sailors, and I wasn't even an original part of the crew."

"Neither was I," snapped Lucy, her stomach turning at the thought of what Edmund was suggesting. Her words had no effect, however, since no one on the ship would ever purposefully let the young queen come to any harm.

Caspian stepped closer to Edmund, using his height to his advantage to look imposing. "You are not expendable."

Edmund growled and crossed his arm. "I'm not exactly jumping for joy about this, but there really isn't anyone else." He stopped Reepicheep before the knight could speak. "We don't know how much blood it would take, Reepicheep, and a human has more than a Mouse."

"We'll find another way," insisted Caspian.

Edmund turned to look back at the ocean, hoping to hide the trembling fear running through his entire body. Never before had he been so thankful that he was already naturally pale. "What other way?"

Any answer was interrupted by a disquieting yowl. Turning, they saw a distressed Cream pacing the starboard rail as some of the sailors were lowering one of the smaller longboats. Confused, they raced over to the commotion. "What is going on here?" demanded Caspian.

The sailors looked confused at their king's own apparent confusion. "Lowering the boat, your majesty."

"On whose orders?"

That confused the sailors even more. Tavros stepped up to Caspian to explain. "Your majesty, Pith requested to be lowered. We…assumed he was under your orders. He said there was a plan to free us." Pith would not have had to lie about being under orders; the crew trusted the devout man implicitly, and could not imagine him doing anything so bold without permission, so they had acceded to his request without question.

Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy leaned over the rail, where they saw Pith, alone in the small boat, better positioning the ropes that had stopped lowering him partway down the side of the ship. "Mister Pith," called out Caspian," what in the heavens are you doing?"

Pith looked up and smiled calmly at the king. "Your majesty, I am doing what needs to be done." Seeing that the kings and queen were still confused, he elaborated. "The contributions a man makes to the running of the ship has no place here; this task has always been meant for me."

Edmund drew in a breath as he realized that Pith had overheard his plan…and was taking it upon himself. However, before he could object, Reepicheep spoke, his voice tinged with sadness. "There is no coming back; do you understand this, my friend?"

Pith nodded, but there was no fear in his face. "I know, and it saddens me that we will not finish this journey together." There was a deeper meaning in his words, born from the hours the man and the Mouse had spent talking together of Aslan's Country. Pith smiled at Reepicheep. "Take care of Cream; she is smart for a mute cat, but will not understand this."

Reepicheep bowed in response, his whiskers twitching. Caspian's eyes, however, were hard. "Would you go against the will of your king?" he snapped at Pith.

The man was not moved. "I must obey Aslan above any earthly king, your majesty. Please, let me down." When Caspian seemed unmoved, Pith spoke again, his voice soft but audible. "Would you have another take my place? For this is surely the only way to save your people."

Edmund's instincts were warring within his chest. Part of him desired to step forward and claim this duty from Pith. Another part, a part he rather hated, was relieved and wanted to run away from it all. He took a step towards one of the ropes, a small step, and he did not know what part of him was forcing the movement.

But the motion seemed to snap Caspian out of his own dark thoughts. The older king straightened his back and nodded regally down at the man still standing calmly in the longboat. "May Aslan go with you, then, _Sir_ Pith." For if anyone deserved the title, it was this man. Pith bowed and sat down in the boat as Caspian turned to the troubled sailors who still held the ropes. "Lower him," he ordered. Edmund opened his mouth – whether to protest the decision or not, he did not know – but Caspian had already turned to the crew which stood around, unsure of what was happening. "Ready the sails and oars! Once free, we must leave at full speed."

Caspian turned back to the rail as the longboat hit the water and Pith released the ropes. Kings and queen and knight stood gravely by and watched the brave man row from the ship, while Cream sat on the rail, mewing pitifully. At a far enough distance, they saw a glint of steel in the sun, and then the _Dawn Treader_ lurched. Behind them, the sailors moved to their tasks, Drinian shouting orders, and soon the ship was gliding forwards, free of her circular prison. The sailors moved with fervor, determined not to let their crewmate's sacrifice be in vain. But the Narnian royals and Reepicheep held their vigil as the _Dawn Treader_ quickly left behind the longboat, until it and the knight it held were only a black dot in the waves of the Eastern Ocean.

Once that happened, Edmund and the others dispersed, joining the crew in a still frenzied dash towards the path of the blue star. They went full sail and oar, fast as possible, for as long as possible. The work was quiet, few talking as the crew dealt with the emotions that came with being under threat of destruction, as well as the survivor's guilt of being saved by the sacrifice of another, a man well-liked by the crew and one of the main pillars of moral support on board ship.

By the time Captain Drinian deemed the ship out of danger from the deadly swarm of fish, the crew was exhausted. Even Eustace had been corralled into work by Reepicheep, being put in charge of making sure a moping Cream ate and drank. It was near nightfall when work truly slowed, enough that Edmund felt it was time to search out Caspian.

.

He found the older king alone in the stern cabin, clothes rumpled and worn from work. Caspian was sitting at a small table, nursing a glass of port wine. Edmund slipped into the chair across the table and filled his own glass with the sweet liqueur. The two kings sat in silence for a long moment, before Edmund raised his glass. "To Sir Pith, follower of Aslan in all things." Caspian raised his own glass, but the movement and the drink after seemed more automatic than anything else. Edmund understood perfectly well; it was a hard thing to lose a man, worse to have ordered him to his certain death. Still, Edmund prodded Caspian with his words. "That was well done; knighting him, I mean."

"It was the least I could do," replied Caspian softly.

Edmund nodded and asked, "Was he at the Bight of Calormen with you?"

Caspian shook his head, still staring at the glass in his hands. "But he begged to join this journey for so long that I gave in. He said that Aslan willed it, and his devotion was so well-known by then…" By Caspian's tone, he clearly wished he had not been so persuaded.

Edmund frowned, trying to remember back to his last venture into Narnia. "He was one of Miraz's crossbowmen, wasn't he?"

Surprisingly, that brought a quirk of a smile to the edge of Caspian's mouth. "Yes, he was. I wondered if you remembered Pith from before." Honestly, Edmund was having a hard time doing so, despite the familiarity of the man. He knew of Pith's crossbow expertise after speaking with Drinian about the skills of those on board. Drinian had told him that Pith, while skilled in archery, had taken a vow of peace after meeting Aslan three years before. Edmund confusion must have shown, because Caspian actually let out a brusque laugh. "Remember, when we were preparing for my coronation? We were looking for the Beruna signet in the old manor house…"

_._

_Flashback_

.

"What does it look like?" asked Caspian from halfway underneath a table which covered, and was covered by, piles of knickknacks and papers. The old study of the late Comde of Beruna was an absolute mess. He could see why Lady Mareteya had just shut up her husband's room, after his death, without entering.

"Like a signet ring," called Edmund from where he was – still – rummaging through the large wooden desk. Telmarines, apparently, used replica seals for their documentations, keeping their official ones squirreled away for special occasions. Unfortunately, Lady Mareteya now needed it to show her position at the coronation, and she only knew that it was kept somewhere in this office – her husband had never even let her see it, let alone tell her where it was.

A hard bump and a muttered swear word came from the built-in wardrobe where Peter had apparently hit his head on something or other. The High King's voice was muffled as he commented, "There are approximately four rings that I've found so far in here. Can you be more specific?"

Edmund, who was busy picking the lock on the third drawer, was kept from answering by the entrance of a nervous-looking Telmarine who was escorted by one of the Narnian guards. The Just King only glanced up for a moment, focused as he was on his work. "Yes?"

The Narnian, a faun, bowed. "Your majesty, this Telmarine wishes to speak with you."

Edmund waved a hand. "Thank you, you may go. And you…" he glanced up at the Telmarine in question.

"Pith, your majesty," the Telmarine answered, wringing his hands nervously.

"Pith, then, please sit down."

The startled man did as he was told, even if it must not have been comfortable sitting on the books which were piled on the chair. "Your majesty, I must give you my confession…" Edmund, still with one eyes and half his brain focused on the drawer lock, waved for him to continue. The man swallowed hard. "Your majesty, it was I who shot you during your duel with the General at Beaversdam." Hearing this, Caspian quickly removed himself from under the table, and Peter darted out of the closet. The former watched with wide eyes, the latter with a glare at the man who had confessed to shooting his brother.

Edmund just shrugged. "Ah. Well, don't worry about it, it's quite healed." A twist of his wrist and the lock clicked; Edmund resisted pumping his fist in victory, settling for a large grin. "Yes! Got it open!"

If he had looked at Pith instead of rummaging through the now-open drawer, he would have seen a very confused Telmarine. "Forgive me, your majesty…" he began, asking in his own way what the king meant by his response.

However, distracted as he was, and used to Narnian, not Telmarine, speech patterns despite the time spent with Caspian, Edmund assumed he was simply asking for forgiveness. "Aslan gives," he unintentionally interrupted in reply, using the common shortened version of the Narnian way of accepting an apology: 'As Aslan forgives me, I forgive you'. A glint of gold in the drawer caught Edmund's eyes and he pulled it out, holding it up in victory. "Found it!" Getting up from the desk, Edmund began walking towards the door. He patted the Telmarine's shoulder as he passed, not noticing the utter confusion on Pith's face, the surprise on Caspian's, and the resignation on Peter's. "No hard feelings. Now, please excuse us, we need to get this to Lady Mareteya." And with that, he left, Peter by his side. Caspian spared a moment to smile apologetically at Pith, who still sat stock still, before following his friends out of the study. He doubted the man would cause any trouble after that.

_._

_End Flashback_

.

Edmund rubbed his chin thoughtfully as Caspian finished recounting the story. "Well, that does sound familiar. I remember thinking it was a bit odd that he sought me out to apologize, thought it showed his character."

Caspian humphed, his eyes still sad. "More than I think you know."

Edmund looked at him sharply. Then he sighed. "I missed some Telmarine idiosyncrasy, didn't I?" he asked forlornly. No matter his abilities and studies, some cultural customs always got past him.

Caspian took another drink of port before answering. "There was a law, born from a series of civil wars a few centuries ago. If a king was injured in battle, after conquering he had the right, if not the duty, to horribly execute the man responsible." He grimaced at the reminder of that law, one of the first he had overturned as king. "If the specific man couldn't be found, the entire conquered army was literally decimated – every tenth man killed."

"So he confessed in order to save his comrades," said Edmund as understanding dawned.

"Yes. I believe you completely confounded him by waving it away with easy forgiveness. It…inspired him to seek out why you would do such a thing."

"He sought out Aslan." It was an easy inference to make; Pith's well-known devotion to Aslan came from _somewhere_.

Caspian nodded, his eyes slightly out of focus as he took another drink of port. "Do you think Aslan truly willed him to…to do _that_?" he asked after a moment, referring to the man's calm sacrifice.

Edmund swished the dark liquid in his glass. "I think…I think He perhaps presented Pith with the choice. Just as we had the choice to let him go."

Caspian's glass came down hard on the table, startling Edmund who looked up from his own drink. The older king's eyes were hard. "I didn't _have_ a choice. Not a good one, not one I can ever forgive myself for making."

Settling his glass carefully to the side, Edmund sat straighter. "It wasn't your choice alone. I could have…"

Knocking his chair backwards, Caspian exploded to his feet, and his voice came out with an angry hiss. "_You could have_? Oh yes, you could have objected. You could have ridden slipshod over my decision, my authority." His voice rose to a shout. "You already were! I knew it, knew you were going to walk right over me, followed your own _idiotic_ will, and gone to your death if Pith hadn't stepped in." Edmund, shocked at the outburst, tried to get a word in, but Caspian did not give him a chance to speak. "That's why I let him! I knew, I _knew_ if he didn't do it, you would have forced your way onto that boat without a by-your-leave, and so I let him go." Caspian's eyes were full of such anger and grief that Edmund winced. Still, the older king did not stop. "I sent a man to his _death_, Edmund," he said, his voice hard as he leaned against the table, glaring at the younger man. "And I didn't have a damned choice, because of you."

Edmund, who was already feeling guilt burning along with the port in the pit of his stomach, leapt to his feet at the blame Caspian was casting at him. "I was going to 'run slipshod' over your authority? Well, in case you didn't notice, I _didn't_. I let Pith go off without a word after you ordered it. So it's one of two things: Either I can overturn your decision and do whatever I want to, in which case I'm a _coward_ for letting you send him off. Or I let your decisions stand once made, in which case I'm a weakling who let you send a man to die without arguing. You choose, but whichever it is, get me _off_ that bloody pedestal you seem to have me on and deal with the choices _you _made instead of fobbing them off on me!"

The two kings glared at each other for a moment; then Caspian stormed away, striding out of the stern cabin with his back stiffened from anger. After he left, Edmund realized he was trembling. With shaking hands, he tossed back the last of his port, then walked out on the stern balcony. Leaning against the railing, Edmund stared out at the horizon, back west towards Narnia. Towards where they had left behind a brave man to his fate. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the wind.

But no absolution came.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_NB: This is the chapter that gives the story its 'T' rating._

* * *

The next few days and nights were rather awkward as Caspian and Edmund avoided each other as much as possible. On the third day, however, Caspian conducted a memorial service for Pith. Not willing to dishonor the man, Edmund and Caspian exchanged clumsy apologies, blaming their accusing words on grief. The apologies, while awkward and tense, mellowed the atmosphere, much to Lucy's relief; she did not know the cause, but she hated that the boys held any strife between them.

Soon after the memorial service, they hit a new trouble in their quest. A great thunderstorm, like that which had hit them on Coriakin's Island, rose out of the east. But this storm did not dissipate overnight. Hour by hour, the crew struggled against the sea and the wind. Even worse, the storm clouds covered the sky, hiding the blue star. Only occasionally did a small amount of light fight through the dark clouds, so that the helmsman could correct his course. Days of interminable storm pounded at the ship and the spirit of those within her holds. The crew grew more and more exhausted as each watch worked every moment to keep the ship upright. Sleep gave little rest to the weary as even the most experienced seamen were affected by the swells of waves and loud claps of thunder.

Finally, Captain Drinian gave over the wheel to Tavros and pulled the kings and queen into the stern cabin. "We're at the halfway point in our stores," the captain told them bluntly. "Calculating that the weather stays as it is, we have enough to return to Coriakin's Island, but this is it. We don't turn back now, we won't be turning back at all."

"We aren't turning back," said Caspian firmly, though he still struggled not to glance over at Edmund and Lucy for confirmation.

Drinian did not show displeasure, only caution. "Your majesty, the crew's morale is sinking with each hour. The blue star hardly shines through this maelstrom, and sightings are getting farther between. If we don't spot land soon, we could end up facing mutiny."

Caspian pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew the grumblings of the crew, but none in the room truly believed they _could_ turn back. Lucy voiced their thoughts. "We can't abandon the missing lords or Lone Islanders, nor would it be good to leave an enemy on the seas to gather strength that could eventually be used against Narnia. And beyond that, we swore oaths to find the lost lords, and we would dishonor ourselves and Aslan by turning back."

"I understand that, your majesty," said Drinian, "but without the sure guidance of the blue star, the crew think we're floundering in the quest as well."

"Then let Caspian decide on our course." Drinian, Lucy, and Caspian looked at Edmund. He elaborated: "I've been watching. Caspian, even when the star can't be seen through the clouds, when you take your turn at the wheel you're always found heading in the right direction when she appears again. It's like you can sense where she is, your instincts leading you towards her."

Caspian furrowed his brow. "I hadn't noticed."

Lucy, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. "With your dream, perhaps you have an inner connection with the star."

"It's the best we have," said Edmund firmly.

Drinian nodded. "Good enough for me. Your majesty?"

Lifting his hands slightly helplessly, Caspian finally said, "I was thinking moving a bit starboard would…would _feel_ better, before we came in here." Drinian nodded and left the room, Lucy close behind and ready to begin spreading word of the development to the crew in hopes of raising hopes. As the two kings also left, Caspian put a hand on Edmund's shoulder. "I don't know if this will work, but thank you." There was more in the thank you than he said, but Edmund understood. He smiled back and the two kings left the stern cabin together, once more entering the storm.

0000000000

The plan was reaching, but it worked. Whether through subconscious knowledge or sheer dumb luck, Caspian _was_ able to keep them on a relatively correct course. At least it was enough for most of the crew. That did not stop the worries about the violence of the storm and its effects on the ship, however. It would do no good to know where they were headed if the storm tore the _Dawn Treader_ to pieces.

The uncertainty and fear played on the minds of the crew. Nightmares were widespread, and at times Edmund wondered if there was something more to it. The warnings of the old Galmans reverberated in his memories, of how true dreams came from the East, how they could be corrupted to breed fear and wrong actions. As they traveled further East, dreams seemed to grow stronger, and darker. Was this what the Galmans had warned about?

That thought led to sleepless nights for Edmund. There was always some work that needed to be done which could occupy his time until exhaustion brought him dreamless sleep. But he could not forever hide from the dream that knocked at the edge of his unconsciousness. One night, almost five days into the storm, the dream crashed through in the dead of night.

.

He woke with a start, heart pounding as the storm raged. The cabin was empty, but he could hear shouts from the decks above. Scrambling into his leather armor and grabbing his sword, he rushed up the ladder onto the deck. The storm was tossing the ship, but that was not the cause of the commotion.

Edmund froze in place as he looked up at the shadowy, serpentine figure that towered above the ship, emerging from the violent waves. The men on deck cried out in fear as yellow-green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. Archers were shooting, but the crossbow bolts seemed to be nothing to the creature. With armor-like skin, the sea serpent was unhindered from striking at the _Dawn Treader_, tearing at terrified men with the massive, fanged mouth.

The king watched in horror as the sea serpent rose up to an immense height with the same bone-chilling shriek he remembered. The men on deck scattered as the creature began to dive towards them, still shrilly screaming. One man, to Edmund's horror, remained where he was, frozen in utter fear. Edmund, near him, heard the man scream in terror, begging for help. The king's instincts screamed at him to help, but he knew, he _knew_ that if he tried to save the sailor that it would mean his own death. The man screamed again and, almost despite himself, Edmund still could not make himself move. The serpent came down on the helpless man; Edmund could not see, but he heard the crunch of bones and spatter of blood beneath the sounds of the storm, agonizing sounds that burned him like a knife in his heart. Even as the sailor was torn to pieces by the sea serpent's fangs, the giant creature slammed into the deck of the ship, sending splintered wood everywhere.

The force threw Edmund backwards on deck, but he was caught by another, icy force. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked down as skeins of green mist snaked around his limbs. When he tried to escape, the mist dissipated to reveal bonds of silvery rope. Somehow, he found he was seated on a gleaming throne, the mere sight of which caused his heart to seize with fear.

Then Edmund froze in his struggles, for a smooth, feminine voice began whispering by his ear: "My dear Edmund," crooned the voice and then the mist shifted to reveal the tenebrous form of a woman who Edmund never thought he would see again; for, as obscure as her form was, the evil emanating from the shadowed woman was that of the White Witch. Although the parts he could see of her seemed created from the green mist, woven with shadow, her face still held the same cruel smile he remembered too well. The Witch reached out a vaporous hand to brush his check, and he jerked backwards against the throne as best he could. "Now, no need for that, my prince. You know there is no escaping me."

"Aslan defeated you," argued Edmund, his voice harsh and rough.

The Witch's smile was indulgent. "He destroyed my claim on your life. But you can still be mine. You can_ always_ be mine."

Edmund's answer was an automatic, "Never."

Even at his ardent statement, the Witch did not become angry, but instead she leaned her face seductively near his, and he could feel the frigid brush of her breath against his cheek. "Oh, but Edmund, I will take you regardless. Your choice is whether to come willingly and escape the torments I will bring you, until at the end you beg me for mercy." Her voice held chilled laughter, and Edmund could hear the sound of screaming on the air, his own tortured, dying screaming.

The fear curled in his stomach and he swallowed hard. "Aslan will save me," he protested, hating how weak his words sounded.

The echo of his own screams continued, louder now and mingling with the dying wails of his friends and comrades, the sounds of serpents and bombs and swords and fire. Overwhelmed, Edmund struggled frantically against his bonds, but they only tightened further, as if they were alive and desired to crush the very breath from his body. The Witch smiled at his torment with cruel love. "Where is Aslan then, my prince?" The sounds grew louder and Edmund could feel them in the marrow of his bones, fear tearing at the foundations of his faith. The Witch grinned, green eyes gleaming, voice tinged with bell-like laughter. "Where is He, indeed?"

0000000000

Edmund truly woke this time; yet the gasp torn from his throat was not from the dark nightmare, but from a heavy weight flung against his chest, the pressure of which overturned his hammock. He flailed and landed on the wooden floor with a grunt, the heavy weight still crushed against his body. Still half-remembering the serpent-like bonds of his dream, he panicked for a moment. Then he realized that he was hearing heart-wrenching sobs and feeling tight, shaking arms. "Lucy?"

The sobs did not cease as he awkwardly held his little sister's trembling form. The floor was cold, hard, and slightly damp, but when Edmund tried to move, Lucy would cling more tightly and breathe more erratically between sobs. He was getting more alarmed as nothing he said seemed to ease her distress, and he was wondering if he should call for someone to help.

He ended up not needing to. Caspian, despite being caught in his own dream, had been jarred when Edmund had been flung off his hammock by a distraught Lucy. The older king was then fully awakened by a crash of thunder that sent him bolting upright. At first he had only seen Edmund's crumpled form on the floor, but as he quickly disentangled himself from his hammock, Caspian noticed that Edmund was holding Lucy as she sobbed hysterically.

Seeing that Edmund was rather stuck, Caspian knelt by the pair. Without a word, he carefully helped Edmund sit up and adjust Lucy on his lap. The young queen continued to weep and cling to Edmund as tightly as she could. Realizing that others were being woken by the commotion, and knowing that it would not be good for the crew to see the queen so distressed, Caspian whispered to Edmund, "We should take her back to her room."

The younger king agreed and Caspian helped him stand. Being as gentle as they could, they extracted Edmund from Lucy's iron grasp. This caused the near-insensible girl extreme distress, and her wails grew louder, but Edmund quickly gathered her in his arms so that she was curled up against his chest. Lucy clutched the front of his shirt and buried her face against his shoulder. She was getting too tall for Edmund to comfortably carry her, but Caspian did what he could to aid him. Together, they slowly made their way to Lucy's cabin. By then Lucy's sobs had subsided into steady weeping, tears soaking the front of her brother's shirt.

Edmund tried to lay her on the bed, but she refused to let him go. Finally, he gave up and stretched out on the small bed, back pressed against the cabin wall, Lucy nestled against his front. He smiled gratefully when Caspian covered them with a blanket and went to stoke the fire, but Edmund's full attention remained focused on Lucy, trying to comfort her with whispered words of assurance. All the while he felt a burgeoning helplessness, for his sister was hurting, hurting terribly, and nothing he did seemed to help.

It took several minutes, if not nearly half an hour, for the tears to stop, but that seemed to happen only because Lucy had fallen asleep. Edmund desperately wanted to wake her and ask what had so distressed her, but thought it would be cruel to do so. So he let her sleep, keeping an eye out for any sign of tormenting dreams – for he feared that that had been the cause of her anguish. Unfortunately, he, too, was still exhausted. His own dream had kept him from rejuvenating sleep, and lying now on this warm bed was not helping. Edmund struggled to keep his eyes opened and focused on his sister, but felt himself fading. He heard a scrapping noise and looked up to see Caspian dragging a chair beside the bed, close to Lucy. The older king smiled tiredly – still more awake than Edmund – and whispered, "Sleep. I'll keep watch." Despite his protective spirit, Edmund also trusted Caspian, could even trust him with his sister, and so let himself follow Lucy into unconsciousness.

0000000000

Caspian sat silently next to the bed, heartened to see that Edmund had fallen asleep. After the nightmare which had gripped the older king, it was comforting to have that sign that Edmund trusted Caspian to watch over the two siblings as they slept. Caspian shook his head, forcing the images of his dream away, locking them in his memory. Instead, he kept his attention on his slumbering friends – his brother and sister, he silently corrected himself. Any sign of nightmares, and he was prepared to wake them.

He did not know how long it was before he noticed. Perhaps it was the occasional soft hitch in her breathing, or the fact that her hands had not relaxed their tight grip on Edmund's shirt. Whatever it was, Caspian soon became cognizant of the fact that Lucy was not actually asleep. Caspian frowned, not knowing if she had only just woken, or had been pretending before, an achievement considering it would have fooled even Edmund. Clearly, though, she was still upset, judging by the white-knuckled grip of slim fingers. "Lucy?" he whispered, hoping to gain her attention without waking Edmund; there was no doubt the younger king was truly asleep, as soft snores attested.

Lucy's back, which was turned towards Caspian, tensed at his words. Caspian waited patiently for a response. Finally, she sighed and spoke softly. "I'm fine, Caspian."

The hollowness in her voice was terrible to hear. Caspian laid his hand gently on her back, and again she stiffened. "No, you aren't," he said simply and Lucy seemed to collapse in on herself at that. Caspian thought he heard her sniffle, the tears beginning again, but still he pressed on. She needed to talk about this, not keep it bottled inside. Caspian knew he was not as close to Lucy as she was to her three other siblings, but perhaps that would actually help here. "You dreamt about him, didn't you?" he asked, referring to Edmund who had not been wakened by their voices, fortunately. The pillow rustled as Lucy nodded. Caspian squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "Did you see him die?" Surely that would account for her distress.

But Lucy answered with a broken: "No. No, he didn't die. He _didn't die_."

Caspian frowned at the grief in her whisper. "I don't understand."

Lucy, however, seemed to change the subject, her voice a little stronger as she did so. "I didn't tell you everything about the Book of Incantations in Coriakin's mansion," she said hollowly.

Caspian leaned forward to hear her, his face shadowed by flickering firelight. "What do you mean?"

"There was a spell I found in there. A spell that would make me like Susan." Caspian did not really understand why Lucy would want to be like her sister when Lucy was wonderful the way she was, and said so. "It…it's complicated," she answered shyly, "but it doesn't really matter. I heard…when I was about to say it, I heard Aslan growl and I knew he didn't want me to do it. So I stopped. But I tore the spell out of the book and took it with me. I told myself it was so I could show you and Edmund an example from the book." She paused. "It was a lie." Caspian wished she would turn so he could see her face, so he could better comfort her, but she did not move from where she could see her brother. Lucy's voice quavered as she continued telling Caspian her story, seeming to want it out now that she had started. "I dreamt… at least, I think I was dreaming at that point. I dreamt that I took out the spell tonight, here, in this cabin…"

_._

_Dream_

.

Lucy held the paper in her hands. The secretive smile of the woman in the portrait beckoned her to say the spell. It would work, she knew it. She would be like Susan: confidant, beautiful, serene. But as she sat on the bed, her eyes kept turning to the engraving of Aslan which hung over the fire. It glowed gold in the flickering light, and she remembered the unhappy growl in Coriakin's mansion. Guilt filled her. How could she wish to be someone else, even Susan? She had always before felt pushed to better herself, but not become _other_ than herself. If Aslan wanted her to be like Susan, well, surely he would have a better way.

All the warnings against enchantments came back to her. And it was not just words, but the little things: Peter's devastated expression in Aslan's How, Susan's pinched face every snowfall, Edmund's hyper-sensitive paranoia when it came to unknown magics. Lucy stood. No, she would not say this spell. What was beauty and serenity if it hurt her family, hurt Aslan? Confidant, Lucy folded the spell over, hiding the woman's portrait; she would put it away to return to Coriakin on their journey back to Narnia when all this was over.

Then Lucy caught sight of a few words on the back of the paper, words she had not noticed before. She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity overrode her caution and she opened the paper back up, this time to see what lay behind the beauty spell. Her breath caught at the flowery script on the top of the page: A Spell To Preserve Another From Death.

Every warning fled away as she clutched the spell more tightly. Lucy stared at the words, remembering the sounds from the wall of mist, sounds of war and death, the sounds of her _family_ dying. Her mind flew to the sailors' bunks, where even now Edmund slept. She could do nothing to keep Susan safe in America, or prevent the Luftwaffe from bombing Peter in London. But Edmund was _here_. She could say the spell and _save_ him.

Buoyed by hope, Lucy dashed out of the cabin and, before she knew it, she was by the side of Edmund's hammock. He was sleeping soundly, not even reacting to the lantern she lit to see the spell. A flash of guilt came over Lucy as she looked on his peaceful face – Edmund had been so distrusting of the Book of Incantations and her use of it. Then, just as quickly, her heart hardened against doubt; she would do this for him, and surely he would forgive her when he learned what happened. Lucy spoke softly, not wanting to wake the others:

.

These words I give will make it true,  
That death shall never come for you.  
By these words to you I give,  
Forever will this life you live.

.

A soft, yellow glow seemed to flit across Edmund, then sink into his skin. Lucy breathed out and then grinned victoriously. She had done it; she had placed her brother under the strongest possible protection. Smile in place, she turned….

….and found herself standing on the deck of a large steamship as the sounds of fire and explosions swirled around her. Lucy's smile faded to a confused frown as she looked at the men running across the deck, dressed as civilians but somehow in the middle of a warzone. Understanding dawned as she caught sight of Edmund, tall and proud and giving out orders like the general he truly was. Somehow, Lucy was here, on Edmund's merchantman ship, with her brother. "Edmund, what's going on?" she asked, and frowned when he ignored her. She put out a hand as he passed, but Edmund walked right _through_ it without notice. Startled, Lucy drew back. Was she a ghost? What was going on?

Without warning, something exploded in a lower hold, rising up through to deck into the mast-house next to them. The men fell to the ground as the explosion turned the mast-house into shrapnel, many of them escaping with minimal injuries. But not all of them, and Lucy watched in horror as a large piece of shrapnel shot through the air and into Edmund's chest, right at his heart.

Edmund collapsed, curling in on himself and gasping in pain as blood poured from the wound. Lucy was by his side, unable to touch, unable to help, only able to wait and see if the spell had worked. She noticed quickly, however, that Edmund's skin did not turn the waxy grey she so associated with death. His breathing was ragged but strong and, although the pain had him doubled over, he did not look as weakened as he should from having lost so much blood. Edmund was not dying, Lucy realized, but her horror grew as she realized something else: he was not dying, true, but his wounds were not healing.

The full implications of this did not sink in just then. Instead, Lucy could only watch the other sailors gather around Edmund. "How are you still alive?" demanded one of them as he checked the ghastly wound.

"No…bloody…idea," gasped Edmund, biting back a scream as the sailor poked the wound with some gauze that Lucy knew would do nothing to stem the flow of blood that burst with every beat of his heart.

There was no time to wonder about the miracle, as the shout of "Torpedo!" rose up and then it hit.

Despite being insubstantial, Lucy felt the searing heat and felt the shockwave that blasted as the ship exploded. For a moment, her sight was dazzled by white and red spots. Then her vision cleared and her heart seemed to stop. Bodies lay strewn across deck, blackened, burning, lifeless. Worse than all the terrible sights before her was Edmund.

Lucy fell to her knees beside her brother as he writhed in agony on the tilted floor of the sinking ship, sickened at the sight of the wounds caused by the explosion. And wounds there were: A large sheet of jagged metal had sliced into his gut, just under his ribs, and nearly cut him in half. The top of his head looked caved in, and he was bleeding from ears and eyes. His screams of pain were heartbreaking, but Lucy could not pull her eyes away, for penance as much as from horror.

For she knew, she _knew_ that any one of these injuries should have killed Edmund. Instead he was alive; alive and fully conscious, aware of every wound, every severed nerve. He was alive, in excruciating pain, unable to die because of the spell _she_ had said over him. The guilt grew, distracted only by the bitter smell and blazing heat of fire. Lucy watched in utter horror as the inferno started by the explosion spread across the deck.

"No, no, no, no, no, no…" Lucy cried, seeing what would happen with terrifying clarity, but unable to stop it. She was as helpless to stop the spread of fire as Edmund was to escape the flames that raged ever nearer, which caught his clothing, his hair, his skin…Unable to bear it, Lucy whirled away, but not before seeing her beloved brother engulfed in flames. She covered her ears with her hands, but the tortured, unending, unbearable screams still echoed through, not stopping, never _stopping_. Not even Lucy's own loud sobs could drown out the screams, or hold back the smell of burning flesh, or sear the sight from her memory. "Please, Aslan, stop this!" she cried and her vision blackened with a roll of green fog as she woke up, heart pounding, still crying, still clutching the terrible spell.

_._

_End Dream_

.

"When I realized where I was, I didn't hesitate," said Lucy, her voice hoarse. "I threw the thing into the fire and ran. I had…I had to see him, make sure…"

Her voice choked up and she fell silent. Caspian, who had gone steadily paler as Lucy recounted her nightmare, gently rubbed her back. "Understandable," he assured her, pushing his voice past the lump in his throat. "I would have done the same."

Lucy's muscles remained tensed and stressed. "He could still die," she whispered dismally.

Caspian winced, knowing how true that could be: whether here or in his own world, Edmund seemed to have a knack for getting himself into highly dangerous situations. "Well, we'll just have to keep an eye on him, keep him out of trouble."

Lucy continued to watch her sleeping brother. "And if that's not enough?"

Though Caspian hated to think about it, he did remember something Doctor Cornelius had once told him. "Then we give him to Aslan."

A moment passed; then Lucy admitted in a voice so low it was barely audible: "I don't know if I can."

There was nothing Caspian could say to that, and so the king and queen watched their brother in the dim light of the fire as the storm raged outside.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

The storm lost some of its power during the night and, while the sun still hid, hearts were lifted as the light of the blue star broke through the clouds and rain. It was only an occasional sight, but enough to help soften the memories of torturous dreams. At least, it was enough for some of them.

Edmund worried about Lucy; she was too quiet, her face too pale. When they had first wakened, Edmund had tentatively attempted to get her to tell him her nightmare, but she remained tight-lipped about it. He might have pushed the issue, but _Caspian_ had deflected his inquiry with a pinched look that told Edmund that the older king somehow had become Lucy's confidant in the matter. It was frustrating, and a little hurtful, that Lucy would confide in Caspian over him, but Lucy looked so drawn that Edmund pushed the thought away. He could do more good with an air of even feigned cheerfulness.

The sightings of the blue star helped, and those increased as the days passed Edmund also began a ritual of making sure Lucy was comfortably in bed before he made his way to the crew quarters, a little time together for the two siblings. By the day the sun finally blazed from behind white clouds, Lucy looked to be fully recovered from whatever night terror had haunted her.

The sun's light lifted many hearts, but there were still worries. The storm had damaged parts of the ship, and supplies, though still enough for a couple of weeks on half rations, were a burden on everyone's mind. If they did not reach land soon, crew morale would easily sink. So it was with great relief when the lookout spotted a sliver of land on the horizon. The blue star shone brightly in that direction, which further satisfied the crew. However, when they neared the island, it was clear to those who had seen Coriakin's enchanted map that this was not Ramandu's Island. While this was disheartening to some, Lucy, who had regained her good cheer, thought it nothing to fret about. "After all," she said, "some of the lords could be here; we need to search for sign of them, at least. Plus, we need to stop for repairs and to search for supplies; perhaps the blue star know how far we still have to go and that we must restock here before journeying further."

The argument was sound, and so two longboats put ashore. In yet another attempt to give Eustace a chance to willingly help out, they brought him along, complaining all the while. Edmund privately agreed with at least one of the complaints: the island looked much less hospitable than Coriakin's Island. It looked larger, in fact, but a cursory glance revealed little vegetation. Edmund hoped perhaps the interior of the island was different, or else he doubted they would find much to bolster their supplies.

Once on the island, they split into three groups: one would hold down the point of egress, a group led by Reepicheep would forage for food, while the kings and queen would search for signs of the missing lords. Scouting parties like they had used on Coriakin's Island seemed less necessary here, where open terrain would guard against an easy ambush. Still, the two groups that would go beyond the beachhead would follow standard scouting procedures, as well as carry out their tasks.

Edmund would have preferred that their party have more of a guard, for Lucy's sake at least, but he understood Caspian's decision to send the majority of the landing party to search for food. With such apparently barren soil, they would need the numbers in order to acquire enough to satisfy an uneasy crew. He did hope, however, that someone of the food gatherers made sure Eustace found _food_ and not inedible or poisonous materials.

While Reepicheep and his group prepared to move along the lower reaches of the island, Caspian, Edmund, and Lucy headed north towards a patch of hills. Caspian reasoned that it would be a good place to take in the lay of the land, and that the lords would have gone there first: Telmarine conditioning would have had them searching for a high, defensible position before looking for supplies. The path up the hills, while steep, was surprisingly easy; years of weathering had created pathways all the way to the top of the tallest, flat hill.

The rocky ground was desert-like, unusual considering the present temperature and humidity. Edmund was comfortable in his layered clothing, and Caspian's brown leather coat did not seem to bother him either. Compared to the dry heat of the Great Desert in Calormene, this barren island was quite cool, and the cloud cover was substantial. The dichotomy made Edmund uneasy, especially when he saw signs of recent rainfall. The soil seemed burnt, more than anything else, not what he would expect in such a climate. Edmund was really getting tired of these islands that made no sense at all; it seemed to be a foreshadowing of nothing but trouble.

"Look!" Caspian jogged ahead slightly, then leaned over a small crevice in the ground. He held up an old, frayed rope that was still securely tied around a rock. "_Someone's_ been here before us."

Lucy grabbed a pebble and dropped it into the chasm. They listened and, by the sound the pebble made hitting bottom, they could roughly calculate how far down this went. It ended up being quite a ways, and Lucy frowned at the fraying rope. "Edmund, you brought the long rope, right?"

Edmund was already pulling a coil of rope out of the pack he carried. Even before leaving the _Dawn Treader_ they had noticed the rocky, steep nature of the island, and so certain members of each group going to the island were tasked with carrying packs of items that could be useful on such terrain. The length in Caspian's pack might have been enough, but it was probably better to take Lucy's suggestion and have the extra slack, just in case.

After Lucy tied off the rope, Edmund volunteered to be the first one down. He was rather surprised when the other two simultaneously and vigorously objected. "I'm the heaviest," Caspian hastened to explain. "If I can make it down, you two should have no trouble." Edmund was not sure that his explanation covered the truth behind the objections, but it was a true fact regardless and so Caspian rappelled down first. Once at the bottom, he called up an all-clear.

Then Lucy insisted that Edmund be next down, which Edmund refused, not willing to leave Lucy on the surface by herself. Still, Lucy could be stubborn when she wanted, and stood her ground. Edmund, not wanting to leave Caspian alone for long in an unexplored cave, but unwilling to leave his sister, grew frustrated. "Lucy, why are you being so hard-headed about this?"

A ghost of the despair that had haunted Lucy's face since her nightmare returned. "Please, Edmund, just go." It was that look, which Edmund had hoped had disappeared with the storm, which broke his resolve. Sighing, he gave in and began his rappel. He would just have to make sure to hover while Lucy descended, in case something went wrong and there was no one at the top of the rope to help her.

0000000000

Caspian waited patiently at the bottom of the crevice for his friends, all the while keeping an eye on his surroundings. He was not surprised by the delay; he had no doubt Lucy was arguing who should be the last down. Grimacing, Caspian nudged a rock with his foot, knocking it into a pool of water. Edmund had apparently been too busy worrying about his sister to notice, but Caspian had seen full well these past few days how Lucy had stuck to Edmund's side like glue, manipulating things as she could to keep her brother away from the more dangerous jobs on the _Dawn Treader_. After hearing her nightmare, Caspian had no compunction about aiding her in this endeavor.

Kicking another rock, Caspian sighed. His own nightmares still niggled at the back of his mind, and he struggled to push them away. Edmund's descent from above – Caspian _knew_ Lucy would win that argument – was a welcome distraction. Caspian steadied Edmund as he reached the cavern floor, and both kings hovered as Lucy took her turn at a pace entirely too fast for their comfort.

When all of them finally had their feet safely on the ground, it was time to explore for indications that the lords had been here. Sun shone through cracks and crevices above a series of tall caverns. The kings and queen followed the outline of the glistening pool; while they knew better than to drink stagnant water, if the lords were desperate they might have done so and left clue to their path in the caves.

After some time – the caverns were extensive – Caspian caught sight of something odd in the water. "Edmund, Lucy, over here!"

The two came and stood by Caspian, looking as he pointed to a glinting figure just beneath the surface. Lucy scrunched her forehead in confusion. "Who would throw a life-sized gold statue in the water? And where would they have gotten it in the first place?" For indeed, a statue of a crouching man, stretching as if to cup water in his hand, lay on the shallow floor of the pool.

"A ritual, perhaps?" suggested Edmund as he glanced at Caspian.

Caspian shrugged. "Not any Telmarine ritual that I have ever heard about. And when Lord Bern spoke to me of the others, he never mentioned that they took large, gold statues with them."

Edmund frowned, but beside him Lucy gasped as she caught sight of something else in the water. When the kings looked at her, she pointed to the area next to the statue. "Whether the lords threw it in or not, they apparently threw something _else_." The men looked to where she pointed and saw one of the Eternals shining silver in the sunlight.

"That…would definitely be a sign that they were here," said Caspian, stating the obvious. Next to him, Edmund searched the cave and found a dried-out woody vine. Breaking off a thick, curved stick, he dipped it in the water to try to hook the sword and lift it out. Caspian watched and his eyes widened when, even as it first touched the water, the branch grew exponentially heavier in Edmund's hands, a sparkling sheet of gold creeping upwards over the dried bark. "Edmund, let go!" The younger king instantly complied, dropping the branch before the shining gold could reach him, and the three watched the now golden, metallic branch sink to the bottom of the pool.

They stared for a moment, processing what they had just seen. "Did that…?" Edmund trailed off.

"Yes, it did," said Caspian faintly. Then he frowned. "But the sword still looks like steel."

Edmund drew his own sword, the first of the Eternals found. "Coriakin did say that Aslan hallowed the stone…" He cautiously touched the water with the tip of the sword. When it did not turn to solid gold like the branch, he started maneuvering the sword to catch the hilt of the other Eternal. Edmund had to lean over the water a bit to do this, so Caspian kept a firm hold on his left arm to counterbalance the weight.

Finally, Edmund was successful and lifted the fallen sword out of the water. He let it fall to the dry ground; no one wanted to touch it until it had dried, in case it only took a few drops of water to spread the golden curse. As it was, Edmund sacrificed a handkerchief to quickly dry the tip of his own sword – interestingly, the handkerchief only turned partly gold even as Edmund dropped it to the ground – and returned the weapon to its sheath. That accomplished, the two kings looked over at Lucy, whose face was pale in the streaming sunlight. "Lucy?" asked Edmund, sensitive to the dark look on her face.

Lucy was staring at the gold figure in the water. "I…What if it's _not_ a statue?"

Her meaning hit the other two, and they followed her gaze to the water. A sickening feeling came over Caspian and he crouched down to look more closely at the details. A shield bearing the Telmarine compass lay to the side, partially hidden by rocks. And the ring on the statue's hand… "The crest of Lord Restimar." Caspian stood, his face troubled. "It looks like he tried to drink the water, or…" He did not want to say the rest. The lord could have easily been pushed in by one of his companions, even accidentally.

"The poor man," murmured Lucy, and Edmund placed a comforting hand on her should while giving Caspian a sympathetic look.

While Caspian did not remember Lord Restimar, it was still distressing to find him dead, the first lord they had found since the Lone Islands. He wondered if, should they find the other lords, that they would even tell of Restimar's fate. After all, the knowledge of such a place, such a treasure, would be beyond value. But no, Caspian thought, they would tell _him_ at least; he was their king, after all. "This should remain a secret," he said out loud, his eyes fixed on the water.

"What?" asked Lucy with a frown that Edmund matched.

Caspian's mind was whirling. "The king who owned this pool would be the most powerful king in the world. No one else must learn of it."

Edmund stepped towards him, a strange look in his eyes. "So you're just planning on keeping this for yourself, are you?"

Caspian looked away from the golden pool and glared at Edmund. "I _am _the king of Narnia."

Edmund's hand twitched closer to his sword, an action Caspian mirrored with Rhindon. "You're _a _king of Narnia. I am not one of your subjects; if anything the water should belong to the brother of the High King," declared Edmund.

Anger boiling in his chest, Caspian stepped forward so he was toe to toe with the younger king. "You don't want to try my lenience on this, Edmund," he warned darkly. King of old or not, Caspian was not going to let Edmund thwart his power and authority here. If Edmund would not support Caspian's kingship…

And it seemed he would not, for Edmund's hand purposefully gripped the hilt of his sword. "Is that a threat? You don't have the guts to go against me."

Caspian growled in fury, but Lucy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Leave it to boys to think fighting solves everything. You're both acting like children."

Neither king was listening to her complaints. Caspian reached for his own sword as he glared further at Edmund, furious at the other's insinuation of cowardice. "I can threaten you all I like, and I can back up those threats to their fullest. I'm not a _weakling_."

Weapons were drawn at the same time, rage fueling the two Narnian kings. As Lucy shrieked her displeasure, Caspian slashed at Edmund, taking perverse pleasure in using Rhindon against Peter's brother. Caspian was not going to take Edmund's disapproval and displeasure, he would fight for all his worth; he would not let the other king put him down, or take over his authority.

Caspian blocked a strike by Edmund, but the blow was hard and the shock reverberated up his arm. Further incensed by this, Caspian increased the speed of his own strikes, the two men engaged in a deadly dance on rough terrain. Caspian defended against hard, swift blows, dealt his own in turn. Soon, the two had maneuvered close to where the wall of the cavern dipped into the wondrous pool. As Lucy shouted angrily at them, and as swords rang with each hit, the unexpected happened.

With his concentration fixed on the swords, Caspian only really saw it happen vaguely. But Edmund's left arm had gone backwards for balance, pushing against the wall of the cave to add force to the strike of his sword. It was a fine strike, and Edmund stepped forward to follow up on it, when he was suddenly jerked back: the black, woolen rope, which was coiled as usual around his left wrist, had snagged on a piece of wooden vine. The unexpected jolt caught Edmund off guard, and suddenly his footing was precarious. Caspian, anger overriding everything, took advantage of the distraction to strike at Edmund, a blow the younger king barely parried.

But it was a defense that would cost him dearly. Edmund's sword fell from his hand, but worse, the force of the blow overbalanced him and he lost his footing completely. Caspian watched as time seemed to slow in front of him. Edmund, wide-eyed, stumbled and began falling inexorably backwards, falling towards the pool of water that would mean his death as much as it had Lord Restimar's.

In that interminable moment, Caspian was seized by an insidious voice that whispered he should do nothing. Let Edmund fall, let him become a statue of gold, a symbol of the folly of going against the King of Narnia: Caspian need no longer fear Edmund's disappointment, his disapproval. Let him fall, and Caspian need not worry of his own position; he would be the only king in Narnia, and the only person whose disapprobation he feared would be no more.

Yet even as the voice whispered its desires, Caspian's heart felt sickened, completely revolted at his thoughts. And his body reacted in complete harmony with his soul. He dropped Rhindon with a clatter and reached, grabbing Edmund's right arm and _pulling_. In doing so, Caspian lost his own footing and fell backwards, thankfully pulling Edmund towards him and away from the water. The two kings ended up in a tangle of limbs, trying to scramble frantically away from the pool, while slipping precariously on the unsteady ground.

Another set of hands entered the fray and, with Lucy's help, Edmund and Caspian crawled further away until they were at a safe distance. The two kings were breathing heavily, and for a moment no one moved. Then Caspian slowly forced his trembling hands to release Edmund. The younger king looked much too pale as they three stood shakily. "We should go. Now." Caspian did not argue, nor did Lucy. Without another word, they picked up the three swords and quickly moved back to where they had first climbed down to this cursed cavern.

Edmund ascended first, his movements seeming more automatic than anything. As he did so, what had happened fully began to hit Caspian. He had nearly killed his friend, his _brother_. And over what? A pool of gold? Power? He felt sick, even sicker as he recalled the part of him that had _wanted_ it to happened, had _wanted_ Edmund dead. How could he…? What kind of person _did _that? No, he _knew_ what kind of person did that: fratricide had its provenance in his Telmarine blood, that blood that had led to his own father's death. And he, Caspian, had nearly become his greatest fear.

His heart fell further at the dark look Lucy gave him as she shoved by him to reach for the rope. "Lucy, I'm sorry…" he murmured brokenly, automatically.

At his voice, Lucy whirled on him, her fury obvious. "Don't," she hissed." Don't say another word to me. I _told_ you my dream, I _told_ you how much it _terrifies_ me to think of Edmund dying, and now you _try to kill him_?"

"I…"

Lucy actually _shoved _his chest. "No! Right now, you leave me alone. You leave _both_ of us alone." Then, her eyes softened slightly turned more grieved than angry. "I…I can't do this. I know…there was some sort of enchantment…but I can't…I can't forgive you. Not yet." She turned and began making her way to the surface, leaving a morose Caspian to follow after.

000000000000

The three walked back to the beachhead in utter silence. Lucy hovered, but did not touch Edmund who walked with an aura of brittleness, as if he would explode or break apart if touched. Caspian felt the same way; from his guilt, from the fear that had crept back into his mind. If the enchantment in that cavern had revealed anything, it was that Caspian's past was still haunting him. Would he never overcome his Telmarine heritage? How easily he had become as tyrannical and power-hungry as his forebears! Add in Lucy's stark disappointment in him and Edmund's tangible silence as they walked… he had certainly not proven himself to be the Narnian king they had hoped for.

They arrived at the boats at the same time as half of Reepicheep's party returned. The results of the foraging expedition were not encouraging, but Reepicheep was buoyed by the fact that the harbor seemed filled with fish. "The land is very barren, your majesties, and we found only the burnt remains of forests and plants; there was little to salvage. We can try our hands at the fish, though. We have the spears."

Lucy, having learned the art of spear-fishing long ago, offered to lead that attempt. Reepicheep thanked the queen, as fishing was not one of his specialties, and then innocently asked if the other party had found signs of the lords. And, unfortunately, he was also looking straight at Caspian for an answer. What was he to say? If he said nothing of the golden pool, it would seem that he had not learned the price of his selfishness. Yet to spread word of water that turns things to gold might prove too tempting to others, leading to trouble. Caspian would get no help from Lucy, who was inspecting the fishing spears, so he glanced at Edmund. Thankfully, the younger king had regained what little color he had, and was well enough to answer Caspian's unspoken question with a shake of his head. "We found indications that Lord Restimar is dead." Simple, truthful, and not likely to cause trouble.

Reepicheep sighed. "That is grievous news. Is there any way we may avenge his death?" he asked hopefully.

Caspian answered hurriedly. "It looked like an accident, I'm afraid. Maybe we'll learn more when we find the other lords."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the second half of Reepicheep's group. They did not carry any more supplies, but that was not what seemed to worry Reepicheep. "Nothing?" the Mouse asked.

Rynelf, who headed the group, shook his head. "No sign of him. He may have headed north after their majesties," he said, nodding at the kings and queen.

"He?" asked Edmund in concern.

Reepicheep looked rather sheepish, or at least as sheepish as a Mouse could look. "I fear Eustace saw fit to slip away from his duties once more."

Caspian rubbed his temple where a headache was beginning to form. How much more could this island throw at them? Beside him, Edmund let out a frustrated breath. "You should concentrate on the supplies. I'll go look for him."

At those words, Lucy looked up, her eyes wide as she was caught between her duty to help with the fishing and her fear of letting Edmund go off by himself. Caspian saw this and, since he was also uneasy about sending Edmund to look for Eustace alone, he announced that he would go also. The older king held back a wince at Edmund's wary glance, but he was determined: he would watch Edmund's back and perhaps find the courage to apologize, even if he did not deserve forgiveness. Besides, it was one way to begin to make thing up with Lucy, who still looked concerned, but also grateful for his actions.

After Caspian handed the extra sword to Rynelf, the two kings set off to find the wayward Eustace. As could be expected, they started in silence, trying to focus their attention on searching for clues as to Eustace's wanderings. They kept to the side of their previous trail, since any tracks there would be covered by their own. Time passed, and finally Caspian could no longer take the silence. "Edmund, I know it's hardly enough, but I'm sorry." Edmund looked up at him, startled, but Caspian continued. "Whatever enchantment there was, it doesn't excuse my words, thoughts, or actions. I can only beg your forgiveness."

The older king could not look straight at Edmund out of guilt, so he missed the surprise and rueful smile that crossed Edmund's face. Therefore, it was his turn to be surprised when Edmund let out a small laugh. "Well, here _I _was trying to get the courage to apologize to _you_."

That puzzled Caspian. "For what?"

Edmund's smile turned pained. "For provoking you and fighting, instead of walking away. And don't say it's nothing," added Edmund when Caspian tried to protest. "None of us acted as we should have, enchantment or not. And for that, I'm sorry."

Edmund held out his hand, which Caspian gratefully clasped. "I am thankful we came to our sense before the worst happened. And not only because I would not have lasted long after you, once Lucy got her hands on me." It was a poor joke, but any humor was needed at that point; the air had grown too solemn.

Though he laughed, Edmund's smile was still wan. "Yes, despite what nearly happened, it was probably a good thing that this got caught." He held up his left arm, where the prayer rope given him by Mickey was still wrapped around his wrist, the crossed tassel dangling triumphantly. Caspian agreed; however, privately he wished it had not taken something so drastic to save them from the enchantment. The two kings continued on their search, hearts lighter for their reconciliation. The memory would remain, but it had less power over them once forgiveness was given.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

Edmund tried very hard not to be frustrated with his cousin, but an hour's search did not do much for his patience. They had found tracks here and there, but the wind had done much to disturb the dusty ground. Caspian had found Eustace's sweater-vest flung carelessly to the side, but with no sign of struggle they could only assume an overheated Eustace had abandoned it willingly. Other than those few clues, there was too little to go on, only that Eustace seemed to be going in a generally north-east direction.

As they walked along a pathway that sloped sharply to the right, however, a terribly familiar glitter caught their eyes. Looking down the steep slope, they saw a gulley filled with a variety of items, all of gold and precious stones. Edmund glanced at Caspian, who looked as pained as Edmund himself felt. "Gold," the older king muttered. "I'm beginning to hate the thought of it."

"_I _don't like the fact that this seems to be a…a _hoard_ or some sort," said Edmund to Caspian's grim agreement.

There were three types of creatures, known to Narnians, that hoarded gold. Humans tended to keep their gold organized and protected by thick walls, unlike the haphazard river of objects here. Therefore, unless Magpies near the end of the world were exponentially larger than the ones in Narnia, the owner of this hoard could be only one thing: "Dragon," the two kings said simultaneously and with mirrored senses of foreboding; for dragons nearly always meant trouble.

000000000

Edmund and Caspian would have both liked to go the long way around the treasure hoard. After all, dragon's gold was notorious for having a variety of enchantments laid on it, and the last thing they needed at the moment was more enchanted gold. Unfortunately, the fresh disturbances in the dirt indicated that someone – Eustace – had slid down straight into the hoard. It was with great wariness, then, that the two kings made their way down amongst the gold.

At first there was little to indicate Eustace's movements; the disorganization of the hoard made tracking difficult. However, the tang of burning metal caught their attention. Following the smell, Edmund halted at the sight of a twisted mass of melted gold, warped metal, and burnt organic material. "This was done recently," commented Caspian as wisps of smoke rose into the air.

Edmund nodded, not trusting himself to speak over the lump that was starting to form in his throat. For he saw something else that Caspian had not yet. He knelt to pick it up. There, far enough away from the core of the fire to be only slightly singed, and lying as if dropped in haste, was Eustace's journal. Next to it lay a shoe, laces broken and burnt. Edmund tried not to shudder as he pictured what must have happened: Eustace had found this place, a tempting sight for anyone let along a boy brought up to expect good things as his due. Either he had touched something enchanted, or just had really bad luck, and had come face to face with the dragon whose hoard he had trespassed upon. Edmund picked up the shoe. Eustace had probably tried to run, losing his shoe and the journal he kept stuffed in his sock as a result. But a boy of Eustace's age, lack of training, and weaponless state would stand little chance against an angry dragon.

Caspian, who had come to kneel next to Edmund, had come to the same conclusion as he put a comforting hand on Edmund's should. "I'm sorry."

"He was just a boy," murmured Edmund. A boy he had never particularly liked, but that did not matter. Eustace was still family, still a child. No one deserved to be killed like this, let alone someone so young, with so much life left to live. "I should have watched over him better." Caspian squeezed his shoulder, but knew better than to comment. Anything he said would probably sound trite, no matter how sincerely meant. So he just kept by Edmund's side as the young king stood and carefully placed the journal and shoe in his pack. Edmund took a deep breath. "We should look for any other…signs." It was a better word than 'remains'.

Caspian nodded and the two silently searched the surrounding area to see if the dragon had left behind anything else of Eustace's. Edmund was not sure if he wanted to find the dragon itself or not; he itched for revenge, but logically he knew he was not well equipped to fight a dragon, even with Caspian's help. Besides, Edmund cautioned himself silently, revenge from anger and grief was almost always inherently unjust. Better to not search the dragon out, unless he was sure he would fight it only out of a desire to protect others.

Still, it was hard to maintain his composure when Caspian's hoarse voice called out for his attention. Edmund closed his eyes before steeling his nerves and walking towards where Caspian was kneeling once more over something. Bracing himself, Edmund was surprised when he looked over Caspian's shoulder to see the disarticulated, bleached bones of a tall man who had been dead for some time. Relief stole over Edmund, quickly replaced by guilt as Caspian picked up ring from under a pile of hand bones. "Lord Octesian," Caspian said quietly, and this time it was Edmund's turn to comfort his friend and murmur his condolences. The death of the lord was terrible enough, compounded by the fact that Caspian's hope to find one last member of his family was destroyed. After a moment, Caspian set his shoulders and stood. "I want to bury him, somehow."

Edmund nodded and they set about laying Lord Octesian to rest properly. The ground was hard and they had no shovels, so they gathered the bones, the few scraps of clothing that were left, and Eustace's burnt shoe, and laid them solemnly in a natural ditch. As Caspian arranged the last bone, Edmund hesitantly put forward: "The sword on his belt…we need to take it." He had not mentioned it when it was first discovered, but they truly could not let a tradition of burial take precedent over their duty to save the lives of others.

Caspian agreed and gently removed the sword, leaving the decaying scabbard in place next to the bones. Then the two kings used a combination of rocks and gold to cover the bones, keeping their senses on alert for any sign of a dragon incensed at his hoard being touched. Despite the fact that the work was long and hard, Edmund in truth felt like they were doing this for all those they could not properly send to Aslan: Eustace, Lord Restimar, Pith. When they finished, the two kings stood silently at attention for a moment in respect. Then Caspian spoke, simple words for a man they did not know, but who was a man nonetheless: "Rest now in Aslan's comfort, Octesian son of Tornesin. May we meet one day in Aslan's Country."

"May it be," responded Edmund as was custom, and he spoke for the others as well.

After another moment of silence, Caspian drew in a breath and spoke softly, "Let's get off this forsaken island, before we lose any more of our family." Edmund had to agree with him. Things had become steadily worse for them since leaving the Lone Islands, barring meeting Coriakin and the Dufflepuds. He shuddered to think of what more they would go through before the end. The two kings quickly and silently gathered their things and left the grave of Lord Octesian to return to the living.

0000000000

Neither Edmund nor Caspian was up to talking much as they walked back to the beachhead. Caspian had given Edmund Octesian's sword to carry – in case they met up with the dragon, Edmund was better at fighting with two blades – but other than that, they kept their thoughts to themselves. Of course, in accordance with everything else on the blasted island, something went terribly wrong all-too-soon.

The two kings were on a stretch of flat, barren land, closer to the beach than to the dragon's hoard, when the sound of roaring and fire and shouting reached their ears. Edmund glance at Caspian who returned his worried look before they simultaneously took off running. The sounds had come from the direction of the beachhead. And they were the sounds of a dragon.

Edmund's heart was pounding from exertion and from fear for the lives of his sister and his crew. The roaring sound moved off and ceased, but the frantic shouts indicated that it was not the end of the danger. In fact, danger had only changed locations and target, something Edmund realized only seconds before the rush of wings and mighty roar of the dragon sounded overhead. In a moment, Edmund was slammed against the ground by Caspian, the dragon's talons clawing the air where they had been standing.

The kings clambered to their feet, Caspian drawing Rhindon and Edmund bearing both Eternals. As he watched the great beast turn in the air, Edmund found it vaguely fitting that the dragon's scales glinted gold in the sun. Then the beast swooped straight at him and his thoughts turned strictly to battle. The dragon roared, angry and frustrated, and it came at Edmund with claws outstretched.

The worst part about fighting dragons is that their skins were like natural armor. Edmund knew he could slice and stab with both swords, and it would be a worthless gesture because a dragon can only be defeated by a blow to its heart. All other wounds it could brush off with ease. So when the dragon attacked, Edmund ducked and rolled, slamming the hilt of one sword against the dragon's head, hoping to at least disorient it a little. The dragon reeled back, more startled than hurt, and Caspian tried to use the distraction to strike at its chest, hoping to get the soft, unarmored section near its heart.

However, the dragon scrambled backwards, out of reach of Rhindon. Caspian was forced back, diving to the ground as a blast of fire came far too near him. Edmund, having gained his feet again, tried to use _that _distraction to get nearer the dragon, but the beast quit breathing fire and turned, its tail slamming into Edmund with such force that he dropped his swords and end up spread-eagled on the ground. His vision blackened for a few sections and his ribs protested violently.

Edmund, disoriented as he was, did not stand a chance. By the time his vision cleared, the dragon had him roughly pinned with its giant talons. Edmund struggled, but the claws held him fast to the ground. As he strove to free himself, Edmund heard Caspian shout his name, but any hope that brought turned to horror when the dragon let out another stream of fire out of its fierce mouth, straight at Caspian. The flames were high enough above him that he was not burnt to a crisp, Edmund still felt the searing heat. The fire was intense, unbearable, clawing into Edmund's skin like knives, and the bulkhead exploded into shrapnel, metal and flame roaring towards them, turning flesh to burnt mush, burning, screaming, and the engine room roared into an inferno and they were all going to _die, _oh _Aslan. _

And then the fire ceased and Edmund remembered he was pinned by a dragon, a dragon whose attention would now be turned to him, now that Caspian was… The dragon stared down at him with angry eyes as Edmund struggled against the inevitable. It growled and huffed at him but, amazingly, it did nothing else. It did not incinerate Edmund. It did not use Edmund's head as an appetizer. It just…grunted and growled and glared.

Panic slowly turned into confusion. Edmund looked to the side, relieved beyond measure to see Caspian slowly emerging from behind the stone that had shielded him from the flames. The older king was watching the dragon with narrowed eyes and sword in hand, and Edmund had the feeling that Caspian would be throwing himself at the dragon as soon as it made a move. While Edmund's heart was warmed at that loyal friendship, when he looked back at the dragon he began to believe that it might not be quite necessary. The dragon's golden eyes were still blazing, but Edmund now thought they looked more frustrated than incensed.

Plus Edmund was still alive, and that was just weird.

Edmund blinked as the dragon continued its strange growling and an idea took form. "Caspian…is it trying to _talk_?"

That brought Caspian up short. "Talk?" he echoed, before commencing his own study of the dragon's behavior, beyond it having Edmund trapped and at its mercy. The two kings were stunned when the dragon _nodded_. "It can…understand us?" commented Caspian in surprised. He had never heard of a sapient dragon, only wild beasts.

Then the dragon nodded again, its expression vaguely resembling annoyance. Taking a chance, Edmund tentatively addressed the dragon. "Could you…let me up, please?" The dragon gave him a suspicious look and Edmund hurried to add, "If you let me up and don't attack us, we promise not to attack you."

"We do?" asked Caspian, glaring warily at the creature and holding Rhindon tightly in his hand.

The claws tightened around Edmund at the perceived threat and Edmund had to keep his voice from squeaking. "Yes! Yes, we promise. You don't attack us, we won't attack you. Deal?"

The dragon answered by slowly removing its claws and stepping back, keeping its eye on Caspian as the older king moved to help Edmund to his feet. Edmund's ribs protested strongly at the movement but, though he stayed doubled-over for a moment, they did not feel broken. Slowly, with Caspian holding his arm a little too tightly, Edmund straightened. He looked at the dragon who was, well, acting a bit like a dog does when it knows it has done something wrong, but does not understand what. So Edmund leveled one of his notorious kingly glares on the creature. "While I appreciate not being killed, I take issue with the fact that you did not give the same consideration to my cousin."

Amazingly, the dragon actually _winced_ at the glare before its eyes widened and it began frantically shaking its head. Caspian frowned. "You _didn't_ kill Eustace?"

The dragon nodded and began gesturing toward its own body. Edmund's eyes narrowed. "You just _ate_ him then?" he asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm. More frantic shaking and pointing at its chest. Edmund heard Caspian let out a soft exclamation of shock at about the same moment that the dragon's gestures finally registered into an idea. Edmund pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh for… Are you trying to say…you _are_ Eustace?"

Again the dragon nodded, quite emphatically, and looked rather relieved. Caspian stared. "Maybe it's a trick?" he muttered to Edmund, knowing that dragons, while usually dumb beasts, had a penchant for sly trickery.

Edmund thought a moment, and then a rather evil idea blossomed in his mind and he gave Caspian a quick grin. Digging into his side pack, Edmund spoke loudly enough so that the dragon could hear him. "Peter will never believe this! Too bad I don't have a camera. Guess I'll have to sketch 'Eustace the dragon' instead," he commented, and pulled out Eustace's journal.

The dragon, seeing the book, roared and began beating his tail on the ground in protest; it reached automatically for the book, but Edmund jumped out of the way and Caspian held Rhindon a little too close for comfort. Edmund made a show of putting the journal back in the bag and the dragon – Eustace – calmed down, but still snorted out smoke in indignation. Caspian rolled his eyes. "I suppose that is meant to prove it's him, then?"

Edmund shrugged. "A random dragon wouldn't care if I read Eustace's journal." He looked at the dragon in question and crossed his arms. "How in the _world_ did you get turned into a dragon?"

Eustace grunted indignantly, but still looked a bit ashamed, if that were possible. Any explanation was forestalled, however, when Lucy, Reepicheep, and a small group of stalwart men came barreling towards them bearing spears, swords, and crossbows. "Edmund!" shouted Lucy at the sight of her brother standing, unarmed, in front of a giant dragon.

Caspian held out a hand to stop them, even as Eustace slunk back, trying to put the two kings between himself and the armed party. "It's alright, it's Eustace," Caspian declared, to the puzzlement of the newcomers.

Lucy lowered her spear slightly. "Eustace?"

The dragon nodded, eyeing her warily. The sailors followed the queen in lowering their weapons, though several of them were not happy about it. "He ate all our fish!" protested one man.

"Be glad he didn't eat you," admonished Reepicheep, as Eustace hung his head slightly at the accusation. The Mouse sheathed his rapier and moved closer to the bespelled boy. "Forgive us, dear fellow, for attacking you. It was an honest misunderstanding." Eustace thumped his tail, which everyone chose to interpret as acceptance.

.

With identities cleared up, Caspian sent most of the sailors back to the beachhead to begin replacing the eaten fish, and Edmund returned to questioning Eustace about how he got turned into a dragon. Through a series of yes-no questions and some bizarre pantomime on Eustace's part, they were able to figure out that Eustace had put on a golden armlet, felt ill, fell asleep, and then woke up as a dragon. Wherefore, in his shock, he had accidentally burned the area that Caspian and Edmund had assumed was the sight of Eustace's death. As the armlet was still on Eustace's arm, digging into his, er, _scales_, the Narnians concluded quite simply that it had been enchanted by a different dragon – an idea strengthened when they could not remove the armlet, despite their best efforts. Hopefully, the original dragon was no longer on the island, but Edmund had to wonder… Eustace did not indicate where precisely he had found the cuff, and Octesian's bones had shown no sign of burning or being eaten. Edmund hoped that did not mean that the only way to turn Eustace human again was by his death. That would be an awkward situation to explain.

Edmund did not elucidate his suspicions; they were in enough of a conundrum trying to figure out what to do with a giant dragon. Eustace did not exactly fit in his bunk anymore; and how would they feed him? Edmund watched sympathetically as Eustace began realizing the, well, enormity of the situation in which his desire for gold had left him. Of course, the Narnians were quick the reassure the despondent dragon that they would not leave him alone on the island, but it was not enough for Eustace. Finally, realizing that the last thing they needed was a hysterical dragon, Lucy suggested that they return to the shore, since night was beginning to fall.

.

True to their word, Eustace was not left alone on the island, even for a night. Reepicheep, Rynelf, and four other sailors agreed to spend the night on the shore with Eustace and the kings and queen. After all, they did not know how many dragons might actually call this island home. As the ship was on second watch, Reepicheep and two of the sailors were first to stay awake, but Edmund, feeling guilty at having not done much to deal with Eustace before, tried to help the new dragon settle in to sleep. His attempts were soundly rebuffed; Eustace, embarrassed and angry, had no desire to have his cousin 'baby' him, and so made it abundantly clear that he did not want Edmund anywhere near him.

Hastily patting out the few flames on the sleeve of his shirt, and suppressing a subconscious shudder, Edmund retreated back to where Caspian and Lucy were being awkwardly silent as they set up bedrolls far enough away from each other that Edmund could fit between them. Edmund frowned and, seeing that the others were far enough away, he folded his arms and sighed. "Alright, you two: whatever's wrong, please, just get over it and make up. It's been a long day, I'm tired, and our cousin is a dragon. I don't want to also deal with unresolved tension between you on top of that." Edmund's temper was not usually this short but, as he said, it _had _been quite a day and sharing a sleeping area with quarreling siblings is unpleasant on a _good_ day.

Caspian's eyes lowered with a wince, while Lucy clenched her jaw. Edmund just kept staring at them until finally Lucy gave in and said, "Fine. Let's just… forget about today."

With a sideways glance at Eustace, who was lying down with his back to them in a perfect huff, Caspian muttered. "Too bad we have a _giant_ reminder for the foreseeable future."

At the Lucy actually cracked a smile. The smile turned into a giggle, which she then tried to cover with a hand when Eustace turned and glared at her. The affronted stare looked so ridiculous on a dragon's face that Lucy could not hold back a snort of laughter, which caused the sides of Caspian's mouth to twitch. Soon, all three were desperately trying not to dissolve into laughter, laughter that was tinged with a slight hysteria from the stress of the day.

Thankfully, a growl from Eustace was sufficient to quiet them: regardless of identity, a dragon's growl still exuded danger. So the kings and queen settled on their bedrolls, grateful to see Reepicheep approach Eustace in his usual charming manner. Of anyone on this voyage, the Mouse seemed to deal best with Eustace, and hopefully this gift would transfer to dealing with Eustace-turned-dragon. Exhaustion soon took them, and they quickly fell to relatively peaceful slumber.

After the day they had been through, Edmund was expecting nightmares. After all, nearly being turned to gold, nearly getting burnt to a crisp by a dragon, none of it seemed the type of experience to lead to good dreams. What came through to Edmund's unconscious mind, however, was not a nightmare. No, it was simply a strange twist on a memory he had nearly forgotten, from before he began his work on the _Pevensey Bay: _

_._

_Dream_

.

Edmund sat on a bench on the high, eastern balcony at Cair Paravel, his short legs swinging back and forth idly. He shivered slightly as a cool breeze brushed by his legs; short trousers were not much protection. In the back of his mind, Edmund knew that he was not this young anymore, that his hands were not this small, that he was no longer eight years old. Yet in the dream it felt right. He shivered again.

He heard the swish of silk and a woman sat down on the bench next to him, wrapping her arms comfortably around him. He leaned into her embrace, knowing instinctively who it was: Susan, as she had been not long before the hunt for the White Stag. "What _am_ I going to do with you," she said, worry mixed with a little bit of resigned amusement in her voice.

"I don't know what you mean," Edmund answered, his vision fixed on the horizon where the rising sun gleamed brightly, yet not hurting his eyes.

"Don't think I don't know what you've done. What 's had you and Dad hiding away in his office since we were sent home from school."

Edmund shifted, but Susan's arms held him tight. Not that he could complain; he felt safe here in her embrace. "We…were talking about what to do now. Hendon House won't be rebuilt from the bombing anytime soon. Peter's going to the Professor's, and you're going to America with Mom and Dad."

She heard the worry in his voice and gently smoothed his hair. "And yet Mum told me it had been decided long before the bomb hit that you and Lucy would go to Cambridge. Where you would be _safe._"

"Unlike you."

There was a pause. "We're taking a passenger liner; we'll be safer there than Peter in London."

Edmund cuddled closer to his sister. "Tell that to the Milners: they thought their children would be safe on the _City of Benares_."

"Edmund." Susan's voice was stern. "Don't try to get off subject. I _know _what you're planning." Her voice turned from lecture to plea. "Edmund, don't do this, _please_. You don't have to prove anything, not to us. I know…I don't talk about Narnia much; it hurts, to remember. But I _do _remember. I remember everything you've done, all the wars, all the wounds. You don't have to fight anymore! You don't have to risk getting hurt, risk dy…"

Her voice broke, and Edmund could feel a tear fall on the top of his head. Beneath the balcony children played in the surf, laughing as they ran across the beach. He recognized the faces: Perin Peridanson and his siblings, Per and Perinella; Esther Milner and her little sister Margaret. Near them, Twillia, Joshua Templeton, Applesweet, Hara Rish, Franklin Anderson, little Maisy Vane who had always stood up to bullies despite her small size. "Susan...this is our home. I'm the Just King, I have to do _something_ to protect it, protect those who are suffering here. I know it's a risk; but it's a risk I feel I have to take."

Susan did not answer for a long while as they watched the children play. Her voice sounded strange when she finally spoke. "You've grown up. More than me, I think, and I don't understand it." Somehow Edmund knew his sister was looking at him with curiosity in her eyes. "How can England be home and yet…?" her voice trailed off, and Edmund rather thought she was not truly asking him the question. Then Susan sighed. "You are determined to do this." Again, not a true question, and it broke Edmund's heart to hear the pain and grief in her voice as she spoke.

Edmund nodded. "Yes." He paused. "Will you tell Peter?"

"No. But I expect you to, when the time is right. Him and Lucy."

"I will. Thank you." Again, they were silent as they watched the sun continue to rise, spreading its steady light across the land. Edmund broke the silence for a final time. "Su? You know I love our parents. I do, I just…Su, I want you to know…whatever the next few months bring…I know it may sound strange, but," he lifted his head to look straight into Susan's blue, tear-brimmed eyes, "I want you to know that I love you, Mother," he whispered, then buried his small, burning face into her shoulder.

And Susan burst into tears and held him tightly, as if she never wanted to let him go.

_._

_End Dream_

.

When he woke after that dream, Edmund felt rather a sense of peace. That conversation with Susan had been emotionally draining, he now remembered, but he also recalled how glad he had been that he had acknowledged her motherly care throughout his life, in England and in Narnia. Their separation, when Susan left for America, had been tearful, but there had been nothing left to regret between them.

Almost unconsciously, Edmund clutched the string of woolen knots that wound around his wrist, silently thanking Aslan for the dream, for his older sister. Then he opened his eyes and smiled. Caspian was stoking the fire, while Lucy was beginning to smoke fish for breakfast. The sun was not quite up over the horizon, but he could still make out their faces; they both seemed more tranquil in spirit as well, and Edmund wondered if they too had dreamt peaceful dreams as he had. After the previous day, he could only be more thankful at even a moment's calm.

Getting up, he made his way to Caspian and Lucy. "You should have woken me up for watch," he said softly, a little confused since he had always automatically woken on time before.

Caspian smiled. "You're on time. We just woke early and decided to let you sleep."

"We would have woken you in a little bit," added Lucy.

Edmund looked between the two. The tension that had held them yesterday seemed to have dissipated, at least enough that they were comfortable with each other. "You talked things out?"

Lucy and Caspian shared a glance; Lucy gave a small smile when she answered, "Yes, we came to…an understanding."

Edmund waited for her to elaborate. When she did not, he asked, "Care to enlighten me?"

Another shared glance, and more humor-filled smiles. "No," said Caspian simply.

With a slight frown, Edmund studied the two, but they seemed firm in that conviction. Whatever conspiracy those two had cooked up, they were not going to tell him. "Fine, keep your secrets. As long as your understanding isn't a secret engagement or something," he could not help but tease.

Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed, as did Caspian, though Edmund was amused to note that the older king's eyes had flickered nervously towards the blue star which shone on the eastern horizon. But Edmund was good, and did not tease his friend about it.

Much.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

When Eustace Clarence Scrubb woke up he nearly had heart failure; there were two large, fierce-looking claws laying on the ground on either side of him. For a long time he did not move, desperately trying to remember where he was, and how he had ended up in the clutches of a giant monster. It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that the claws where his own, transfigured hands, to remember that he was, in fact, a dragon.

A _dragon_.

How Eustace wished he could return to believing this was all a hallucination! But several things contributed to the fact that this was no hallucination. One, Eustace knew perfectly well that he did not have the imagination capable of creating something like this in his head. And two – he was a _dragon_. He breathed _fire_ and _flew_. It was not just that being a dragon instantly meant he was not hallucinating. He just did not think that his hallucination would be comprehensive enough to add the little details.

Such as the fact that he tasted everything. For Eustace, the change in his sense of taste had been one of the strangest changes in becoming a dragon. His hearing was mostly the same, his eyesight just as sharp, if a little unsaturated in color. But Eustace's sense of smell seemed to have migrated from his nose, enhancing his ability to distinguish minute details just from the air that flowed into his mouth, over his tongue. It had been one of the most startling changes, but Eustace was even now finding that he relied more heavily on his sense of taste than anything else.

It was strange. The whole _situation_ was strange. Eustace was at a complete loss as to what exactly he was supposed to do now, so he got up and wandered around at the edge of the camp. He noticed that the others were already up and talking softly with each other; probably about him, he sniffed. Reepicheep noticed him – and really, how did no one else notice a waking dragon? – and came over, offering a couple cooked fish for breakfast. It was not nearly enough for Eustace's increased stomach, but he gulped them down anyway, then looked around, hoping to find something to drink.

Thankfully, Reepicheep seemed to understand and pointed him in the direction of a stream that had cropped up overnight – the Mouse assured Eustace they had checked to make sure it was not enchanted despite its strangely fortuitous appearance. Eustace grunted at the diminutive knight and stalked away. Never a morning person as a human, his irritation seemed magnified tenfold and he was not quite sure he would not roast the Mouse on the spot if he did not stop _talking_. Reepicheep left him to it and returned to the others, and Eustace made his way to the stream.

.

It was more of a trickle, in Eustace's opinion, but it was water. Of course, figuring out how to drink with a snout was more than a little awkward. At first he had tried cupping his…claws…but he kept nearly taking his own eye out. Finally, he bent down and used his tongue to lap up the water. It was humiliating, he was acting like a _dog_. Eustace was just thankful that no one could see…

Eustace winced as Edmund's voice startled him. So much for no one seeing him. Straightening up, Eustace glared at his cousin, and tried to ignore the taste in the air surrounding Edmund, that unknown, dark _something else_ that chilled him to his bones. "Um, we need to, er, talk." Eustace gave the hesitant Edmund an annoyed look, so the so-called king quickly continued. "We need to keep moving towards Ramandu's Island. That's what we were discussing earlier. We don't have enough supplies to stay here, and we need to go while we can. But, um…" Edmund sighed. "Obviously, you're not going to fit on the ship." Eustace huffed and deepened his glare, hoping to be suitably impressive. After all, being a dragon should have _some _uses. "I really hate to say it, but there aren't many choices available. The one we thought had the best chance was that you can fly alongside the ship on our way to Ramandu's Island."

Eustace growled. He had absolutely no desire to take his chances flying away from solid ground in the hopes that they would make it to land before he collapsed completely. Using what gestures and grunts he could – and was it not just the worst thing to not be able to speak? – Eustace tried to get this idea across to his cousin. Judging from the annoyed look on Edmund's face, the gestures had probably been more rude than was considered polite in this strange world. "Look," said Edmund, "I understand that it's a risk leaving the island. But it's either that or stay here alone, and I'm not sure you…"

Edmund did not have a chance to finish as Eustace snorted in real alarm. Alone? Be left here on this island with one stream and no readily available source of food and no escape! At least on the _Dawn Treader_ he felt he had the chance of getting home _somehow_. And they would leave him? Eustace was ready to panic. Sure he hated his cousins, but…but…they couldn't _leave _him! "Hey, hey, Eustace. Calm down, please, calm down. It's alright." Eustace inhaled deeply and realized that he was beginning to breathe out smoke. He looked at his cousin and was annoyed – and a little touched – to see sympathy in Edmund's eyes. "I'm sorry. I forget you're…" Edmund sighed. "You don't want to be left alone," he stated without question and Eustace firmly, and a bit frantically, nodded. "And you aren't willing to try flying along with us?" Eustace just as firmly confirmed this. It was too dangerous. Edmund gave him a tired smile. "Then there's nothing for it." And the king turned and walked away, back towards the camp and the others.

Startled and unsure of what had just been decided, Eustace followed Edmund without thinking. When Edmund walked up to the others – others being Caspian, Lucy, Reepicheep, and Captain Drinian – Eustace sat a ways behind them, listening and watching but not going near. "Well?" asked Caspian. "Has he decided what he wants to do?"

Eustace furrowing his, rather ridged and scaly, brow. They had let him make the decision about what to do? Sure, his cousin had _asked_, but were they really going to stand by and let him choose what to do? Perhaps they really were, for Edmund nodded at Caspian's questions. "Yes. We're staying here."

There was silence and then Lucy spoke, her voice tinged with something that tasted like amazement and fear. "I'm sorry, did you say '_we're_ staying'?"

"We have to keep going to Ramandu's Island, we don't have the supplies to stay here," objected Caspian.

Edmund nodded again. "And you will. But Eustace doesn't think he can fly that far, and, frankly, I can understand why he doesn't want to take that risk. But he also doesn't want to be left alone on this island. So I'll be staying with him."

Eustace sat there, stunned, as a cacophony of objections rose up to the air. Edmund was staying with him? A warm feeling washed through Eustace's chest; he may not like his cousin at all, but it did not matter. He would not be alone! The others, however, were not so happy about this decision. Lucy, in particular, objected. "Edmund, you can't!"

"I have to, Lu. It's partially my fault, anyway – I should have watched out for him better, tried to teach him how things work here."

"All of us could have done better," said Caspian, "but that doesn't mean you should stay here. It's too dangerous!"

There was a bit of humor in Edmund's voice as he replied, "I think that there would be few creatures willing to go up against a dragon, even if that dragon is Eustace." The dragon in question felt a bit affronted at that, but not so distracted as to not notice the taste of warning on the air. At least the warning masked the taste of that other, dark, horrible _something else_, if only a little bit.

.

"But what will protect you from Eustace?" Captain Drinian's quiet question startled everybody, Eustace included. What did he mean? Edmund asked him just that, and the bald man only glanced at the supposedly dangerous dragon a moment before answering. "Your majesty, I'll be blunt. Even if Eustace were completely safe, there's little chance that you would be able to find or scrounge enough food for both of you to eat, even if we risked leaving you with some of our own stores. As it stands, Eustace may have control of himself. But when you both begin starving? Will he be able to resist his instincts to consume a readily-available source of food, regardless of if you're his kin? And forgive me, your majesty, but fighting off a hungry dragon is not something a man at full strength can easily accomplish, let alone one that's on the brink of starvation. So I ask, what will protect you from Eustace?" That set off another round of cacophonic arguments, with Lucy stubbornly insisting that Edmund would be coming with them if she had to tie him to the ship's mast, and Edmund arguing that he could not just leave their cousin alone, and Caspian and Reepicheep trying to get in their own opinions.

Eustace, however, did not pay attention to them. Instead, he was reeling from the new thoughts and feelings that were bombarding him. Had that captain just implied that Eustace would _eat_ Edmund? That he would lose control of himself so badly? Eustace wanted to object, wanted to be indignant at the very idea. But he could not. He remembered, even if he had tried to forget, how he had reacted when Edmund and Caspian had unknowingly attacked him. While Eustace's intent had been to get them to notice his situation, when they had attacked…that feeling…that hunger. When Eustace had held Edmund trapped beneath his claws, there had been such _hunger. _It had only lasted a brief moment, but it had happened.

Thinking about what the captain had said, Eustace was not too sure that the hunger would not return.

Eustace frowned as he watched the group arguing, Lucy and Caspian on one side, Edmund and Reepicheep on the other. The former contested that Edmund staying was too dangerous, while Edmund stubbornly stood firm and Reepicheep tried to offer his own services to stay with the dragon. Why? Why would the Rat – the Mouse – want to give up his chance to go East to stay on the island with Eustace, despite all he had waxed eloquent about some country at the end of the world? Why would Edmund be willing to go against his sister and his friend on _Eustace's _account, take such a risk for a cousin he did not even _like_?

Could Eustace let him?

Almost before he could think, Eustace had charged into the middle of the argument. Only Captain Drinian had noticed the movement, and were he not so professional and loyal he might have found it amusing to watch the reactions of kings, queen, and knight to a sudden dragon in their midst. As it was, the group was startled into silence as Eustace furiously banged his tail in the dust, grunting and growling his opinions.

Reepicheep seemed to understand him the best, if the confused looks of the humans were anything to go by. "I say, dear boy, are you sure? It _is _a risk."

Eustace nodded emphatically and Reepicheep dutifully translated for the others. Edmund looked at him with concern – real concern! – and said, "Eustace, I meant what I said, I would stay here with you."

Eustace's head drooped a little; Edmund obviously meant it, but how could he? But even though he did not understand, Eustace had made his decision and no one was going to move the stubborn dragon.

Eustace was going to fly.

00000000000

After making sure that everything was ready, the crew of the _Dawn Treader _wasted little time in setting sail. There was no use staying on that accursed island longer than necessary, and Edmund, Lucy, and Caspian, in particular, were eager to leave behind bad memories. The blue star shone brightly, leading them eastward and slightly northward, her sparkling shine seeming to grow larger as they moved further east. In fact, the sun itself seemed to be larger than usual, larger and brighter, more golden. The air was warm and crisp, and the sky a startling bright blue in contrast with the pure white of the luminous clouds.

Edmund was proud of how Eustace kept up with them, even as a day and a night passed. The boy-turned-dragon's change of mind had been startling, but relieving, and Edmund hoped that it was the beginning of a more complete change in Eustace. For once, Eustace seemed to realize that his desires were not the only ones that mattered. Still, Edmund had a feeling, that some of Eustace's present grunts and groans were a little more theatrical and attention-grabbing than they should be.

Another day and night passed, and Eustace still seemed to be going strong. The same could not be said, however, for the wind. The waves died down, the currents slowed, and the sails remained flat. Edmund could only share a grim look with Lucy as the sailors pulled out oars: the sea was becalmed.

.

For a day and a night and a morning they rowed, pushing through the sea like molasses. The heat of the sun beat down on deck, despite a chill in the air, and grumbling broke out among the men. A becalmed sea meant a slow death, rowing to exhaustion and gobbling up their meager supplies. It was soon clear that the men on board were under heavier stress than the dragon, whose wings cut through the air like a knife through butter. The grumbling grew among some, a quiet fear among others. There was little chance of mutiny, however: the only land within reach of their shores that they knew was the Dragon Island, and no more supplies could be found there. The crew of the _Dawn Treader_ could only subsist now on hope, and prayers that the wind would come.

It was not wind, though, that brought relief to the anxious crew but, to the amazement of them all, it was Eustace. The dragon had not, in fact, realized that there was much of a problem with the boat – sailing and rowing were all the same to him. But the worries of a Mouse, who often spent the hours riding atop Eustace's head, had worked on even a dragon's heart. It was an unprepared crew that found themselves thrown to the deck by the sudden shifting of the ship, and it was a jubilant crew that cheered the dragon that had wrapped his tail around the _Dawn Treader's _aptly-shaped prow and was pulling the ship through the flat ocean. Even Cream' perpetually-low spirits were perked by the joyful atmosphere, and the cat curled up on top of the ship's prow, purring her approval.

However, even then, most of them knew that it was only a temporary reprieve. Eustace was strong, but he could only pull the ship on its course for so long without rest. They crew looked to the blue star with hope, that she would soon lead them to land. It was a full day before any land was spotted, and their hopes rose further; only to be dashed when they realized that the distant island was to the south and the blue star was guiding them north-east. In fact, she was rather pointedly guiding them away from the land. Edmund was not sure how a steady light could be insistent, but this one was. Caspian, despite some misgiving, reluctantly made the decision to bypass the land and continue following the blue star.

Eustace did not like this plan.

It would be hard to record the argument that followed this decision, since one of the party no longer had the use of the spoken word. Therefore, it must simply be stated that Eustace was tired. Tired and stubborn and quite determined to go south to the island for a good rest. Edmund and the others tried to argue with him, and Reepicheep even seemed close to reaching the dragon's senses, but in the end it was not enough. Eustace glared at them and then released the _Dawn Treader_, before flying in a bee-line towards the mysterious island.

Edmund rubbed his forehead and sighed. "The little blighter knows we won't abandon him."

Lucy had a matching pained look on her face. "Any other time and it would be a _good _thing that he knows he can trust us."

"Any _other_ time," said Caspian in exasperation and he ordered the oars out and for Captain Drinian to steer towards the island.

.

No one noticed the curved back that broke through the waters for a moment before disappearing into the deep, nor the desperate warning of an unheard star.

0000000000

Uneasy about what they might find, the Narnians did not intend on doing more than locating Eustace and letting him rest a little before continuing on. After all, they could reasonably assume that they would find no sign of the four remaining lords, since the blue star was so determinedly leading them away from the island. If the lords had been here, likely the star would have led them to this island that glinted white even at a distance. So there was no need for scouting parties, and the kings and queen landed on the sandy shores with only Reepicheep and a squad of three men to watch the longboat.

The shore of this island was small, too thin for a dragon. The sand quickly gave way to a wall of short, stair-like cliffs of white stone, leading up to a high plateau on which Eustace had firmly planted himself for rest. With resigned sighs all around, Edmund, Caspian, and Lucy took to the cliffs, which were just tall enough that the climbers had to use their arms to leverage themselves upward.

The plateau rose high, and the climb grew rougher as they reached the top. Edmund wondered at the fact that there did not seem to be any vegetation here, unlike the greenery capping the famed White Cliffs of Dover, back in England. While the plant life on Dragon Island had seemed to have been burned away, perhaps by the owner of the gold hoard, here it seemed that life just did not grow at all. The gleam of white stone in the sunlight burned, and Edmund was terribly reminded of the ice in the North Atlantic, that could play havoc on the eyesight of those on the deck of the _Pevensey Bay_. Edmund hoped they could avoid that danger here, despite the deadly gleam of the rocks.

By the time the three reached the edge of the plateau, the wind had picked up fiercely, enough that Edmund was worried that the much lighter Lucy would be too unsteady to pull herself up over the edge to the top of the plateau. He was thankful that Caspian, who had reached the top first, managed to get a good grip on her and help her up. Both of them, in turned, helped Edmund when he reached the plateau edge just after Lucy. He _did _think they were being a little paranoid about not letting go until they were a goodly length enough away from the edge.

The plateau was extremely flat, the stone covered with a thick coat of sand so white that it resembled – the usual metaphor used here would be 'resembled snow fallen on a vast plain', but there was such an unnatural feel to the place that the thought in Edmund's mind was: "It's the color of bones bleached white in the sun". In that bleak landscape, the golden-red sheen of Eustace's scales was like autumn leaves against a cloud-filled sky. The dragon, indeed, looked almost bizarrely alive when contrasted with his barren surroundings.

Eustace was curled up, his eyes closed, but the miffed twitching of his tail indicated that he was not asleep. The three humans walked to their cousin, pushed by the wind. Eustace turned his head toward them and then opened one eye as they neared, and its glare was evident; he was not happy that they had not listened to him about stopping before. Caspian attempted to placate him. "Eustace, we understand that you're tired, and we don't know when we'll arrive at Ramandu's Island. But," he glanced in the direction of the blue star which, still bright in the daylight, was sparkling in what almost seemed to be alarm. "We can't stay here. Not for long, anyway. It's not safe."

Glaring for a moment to show that he was not in the mood for Caspian's explanation, Eustace turned away, his back against the kings and queen and against the wind. After exchanging beleaguered glances, the three walked around to the front of the dragon, thankful to be buffeted from the wind by his large bulk. "Eustace, don't be like that," pleaded Lucy. Eustace humphed and scratched idly at his hide, losing a few scales in the process. "We'll give you time to rest, but then we really must be going!"

Edmund was distracted from Lucy's negotiation by the area now behind them, which had previously been hidden by Eustace. It was a large swath of black – no, extremely dark green – foliage, flat on the ground but running the length of the plateau. He was about to inspect further – new plants were much more interesting than arguing with upset dragons – but he was distracted by movement out of the corner of his eye. Blinking, Edmund squinted at the ground near Eustace. It was still flat and pure white; even the slight ripples of heavy sand were lost in the blocked wind. Wait.

Pure white?

Edmund frowned and knelt, examining the ground. Had not Eustace just lost a few of his scales? Surely the red-gold would show starkly against the ground? But they were nowhere to be seen, despite that area being well-protected by Eustace's bulk. Edmund picked up some of the sand. It was even heavier than he expected, and strange to the touch. Again, movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention, this time in the sand near the edge of the dark foliage.

Standing, Edmund moved back to the strange plants. The leaves were so low and apparently heavy that the wind moved them little. They were similar in form to ferns, but more skeletal, like a thick blanket of entwined pine needles. Every few feet small, white flowers, curled inward and skull-shaped, protruded up and swayed slowly. The dark stretch of leaves seemed to cut a black path from one side of the island to the other, ending a little north of where the longboat had landed. Edmund stared out to the other side of the path, where the plants stopped and a sheer, white cliff took off into the sky: probably the source of the glint they had seen from the ship.

"Ed?"

Edmund started slightly at Caspian's voice. He turned partly toward them and smiled sheepishly. Lucy rolled her eyes. "You got distracted by the plants, didn't you." It was not a question. Lucy sighed. "Honestly, you should just apply for a job at Kew when we get home."

"Kew?" Asked Caspian, curiously.

Eustace grunted in what sounded like a scoffing manner, but of course he could not explain as Lucy could. "The Royal Botanical Garden in Kew. With his knowledge of plants, I think Edmund would do wonderfully there."

Shoving away the uneasiness he felt at her words, Edmund laughed. "You _do _remember what happened when I actually tried to _apply _said knowledge and grow something?"

"Well, yes, that didn't turn out so well, but…"

.

There was no malice in what happened next, just simple cause and effect. As the three humans talked, they had been buffeted from the wind by Eustace's large, reptilian body. It was mere happenstance, probably, that Edmund was standing further back and to the side than the other two. No mortal could have predicted, or intended, that, when Eustace curled up more tightly so he could use his horns to scratch an itch on his hind leg, a great gust of wind would blow forward at that exact moment.

And so the gust of wind blew against Edmund, who took a mere step back, wincing at the biting wind and at the thought of trampling one of the strange plants. But he did not trample the plant. He stepped, his foot touched the plant…and went straight through the leaves. Unbalanced, Edmund fell backwards, kept falling, kept moving, until his whole body slipped through a black-green veil as leaves gave way to a stygian chasm.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

.

Lucy's frightened shout followed Edmund as he fell through thick leaves and thin branches. He desperately clutched for a handhold as he realized far too late that the ferns were, in fact, the tops of trees and that, if the trees were tall enough, he might not survive hitting the ground. Silken thread brushed his face as he fell and he managed to grab a handhold. The force jerk his arm, but the threads did not hold him for long as they tore with an unearthly sound and followed him deeper into the abyss.

Darkness engulfed Edmund, a deep shadow that hid the progress of his fall, hid the sight of its inevitable end. Therefore, he had only the swiftest moment to sense the onrushing earth before he hit ground. Silently thanking his old friend, the Hose Philip, for teaching him to fall correctly, Edmund rolled as he slammed into the earth, keeping his arms pulled to his chest and his hands covering his face. With too much momentum, he smashed into a black object, thin enough that he ended up twisted partly around it, his right shoulder trapped and nearly snapped by the collision.

Red-hot pain rippled from his right side, through the rest of his body, and he lost his breath for a long moment. Thankfully, he had not hit his head, but it still took time to force his body to move past the pain to coherency. Once breathing was again automatic and not forced, Edmund tried to takes stock of his injuries. His ribs ached fiercely from slamming first into the ground and then – he used his left hand to feel the object that had stopped his roll – into a tree, but the ribs did not feel broken. His toes could move, always a good sign. No, the worst were his ribs and, particularly, his right shoulder and upper arm, which had borne the brunt not only of the fall itself, but also the tree.

Sitting up slowly, Edmund was glad his lungs seemed to be working correctly again. He blinked his eyes, but he could see little of his surroundings, thanks to the thick canopy above him. Only a faint ray of sunlight peeked through, presumably from where he had fallen and torn some of the leaves.

A soft groan behind him caught Edmund attention, and he whirled his head around to try and see what was there, his heart pounding while a jolt of pain ran down his arm at the movement. He focused his eyes as best he could, but saw nothing, and he felt nothing but a slight, cold breeze on his face. Edmund breathed in a calming breath and stood, leaning against the tree trunk to steady himself.

After a moment, Edmund realized that a voice was shouting from above: "Ed! Edmund, you answer me right now! Edmund!"

"Lucy!" he shouted back up, for all that his ribs ached for it. "I'm alright, just a little banged up."

There was a pause as Lucy probably tried to decide if she believed him or not. "What happened?"

Edmund could not help but let out a rough laugh. "They aren't ferns; they're trees." He paused. "Really tall trees. I think I'm in a gorge or something."

"We're coming down," shouted Caspian, his voice tight with worry.

"Not unless you have rope, you aren't. I don't think there are any branches except near the top, and there's not enough light for you to try climbing the side of the gorge." For the same reasons, Edmund could not climb back up either. And he knew that it would take too long to get back to the ship for rope – he had to curse himself for forgetting to be prepared for something like this. "Look, if I remember correctly, the trees go all the way to the beach where we landed. I'll meet you over there."

There was a long moment of silence after that; Edmund could only presume Lucy and Caspian were talking the plan over. Then Lucy's voice returned. "Are you sure you can make it there safely? You aren't too injured?"

Edmund could roll his eyes in safety, as his sister could not see him. "I'm perfectly fine, nothing that can keep me from walking in a straight line."

"That's not exactly reassuring, Ed," quipped Caspian, but there was really nothing he or Lucy could do. Edmund was on his own in this dark, forbidding forest.

With a smile that he knew the pair could not see, Edmund gave one last shout: "See you in a little while. Try not to run into any trouble while I'm gone!" If his hand clutched tightly to the prayer rope's tassel, it was too dark to make out.

0000000000

Walking through the gorge was not an easy task. Very little light made it through the tall canopy created by trees whose bark was as dark as their leaves. Occasionally a veil of white vines, like those that had momentarily stayed Edmund's fall, would hang down from the high tree branches, the only break in the utter blackness that surrounded him.

Edmund knew the general direction in which he needed to go; if he kept the cliff he had fallen off of to his right, he would be fine. And while it was hard to make out the black-barked trees, at least the thick canopy meant there was no undergrowth to trip over. In fact, the ground seemed to be completely barren, covered only by black sand that seemed in stark contrast with the bone-white stone of the cliffs.

It took several minutes before Edmund's eyes truly adjusted to the darkness. Being able to see, however, was not much of a comfort. The trees loomed like the bones of giants, sticking out of an abyss and burned to charcoal, interspersed with the white looms of spectral vines, like wisps of incandescent smoke drifting down from the black cavern of the canopy. As a slight breeze pushed through their fibers, the vines let out the soft groans of wounded creatures, sending a startled chill through Edmund at each sound.

The Eternal hung at his side, but even that was not a reassurance in the darkness; Edmund could hardly see a foot in front of him, a disadvantage compounded by his swollen right shoulder, meaning he would be forced to fight half-blind and left-handed, if it came to it. As it was, his left hand was almost unconsciously passing the knotted rope between thumb and fingers, a focus for his silent prayers that he would not be forced to defend himself. Not now, not injured, not in this dead forest that seemed a web of ensnaring darkness.

Other than the groans of the white vines and the soft thud of his own boots on the ground, Edmund was surrounded by silence. There were no birds singing in the towering branches of the trees, no wood life rustling. The whole island seemed dead, save for trees that _looked _lifeless. Edmund found it eerie how the silence somehow seemed to _grow _as he walked, mingling with the darkness to create a suffocating cave of emptiness, nothingness.

.

Suddenly, Edmund stopped and whirled around, wincing as his right hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword. There had been a sound; not that of the vines, but something lower, behind him, a whisper and a moan, and the sound of shifting sand. After a long moment, nothing appeared, nothing happened, and Edmund slowly returned to his previous path. Perhaps it was just his imag…

There, to his left, the sound again! He turned to face it, only to hear it again, on both sides. It was as if something was scurrying across the sand, heading toward him.

Again, near the path he had already trodden!

He went to draw his sword, but even adrenaline could not lift his swollen shoulder. "Who's there?" he called, his voice low and hoarse as he tried to figure out how to unsheathe his sword left-handed. The sound grew louder, came as a wave, cutting off his previously travelled path, flanking him on both sides. Only the forward path was free, but he knew well that running could be worse than staying, depending on the enemy. "Who are you?"

The hair on the back of Edmund's neck lifted as a cold, empty, decayed voice answered: "What you are, we once were. What we are, you will become."

There was a metallic rattle by his side, and Edmund looked down to see his left hand holding the pommel of his sword and trembling violently. He forced his hand to let go and pulled it behind his back to hide the tremors. "What do you want?"

The voice, echoed in stereo, simply repeated: "What you are, we once were. What we are, you will become."

Edmund began backing away slowly, heart pounding. "Show yourself!"

"What you are, we once were. What we are, you will become."

"In the name of Aslan, I command you to show yourself and declare your intentions!"

A hiss rose up, but then shadows focused in the darkness. Then the shadows turned into figures and Edmund let out a strangled gasp; he took another step backwards, away from the horror. Before him, some with weapons, some without, stood seemingly hundreds of men and other creatures. But this was no mortal army. There, to the left, stood Mickey, half his head missing and smiling, with the standing, _moving _corpse of Malik, every inch of the engineer's body burnt black and crumbling. There, near them, stood the Telmarines that Edmund had slain three years previous, still bleeding from their wounds, their bodies decomposing. Further to the right, he saw the faces of friends and foes, lost to time, their forms little more than skeletons, with only ghosts of their former selves to identify them. A gargled moan tore from Edmund's throat at the sight of Philip's flesh rotting off his hindquarters, of Peridan carrying a spear stuck in his chest, of Strail's water-bloated body. A hag cackled, although she was half-decapitated, and a young Calormene boy glared with the eye that had _not _had Edmund's sword go through it at Anvard.

Terrible as the sight was, worse was the one figure who stepped forward from the ranks of his dead, whose body was mutilated, frozen, and bloated. The figure smiled, a terrible, torn smile. And then, more horrible, it spoke, voice as mangled as its body, words chilled: "What you are, we once were. What _we _are, you will become."

And Edmund – who had stood fast against a battalion of giants, who had thrown himself against the overwhelming ranks of the Telmarines, who had sworn death before surrender – heard these words, turned, and ran.

000000000000

Edmund did not look where he was going; he did not care. He ran, heart pounding, faster, darting through the trees, away, _away_. But they followed, with cruel, mocking, dead laughter. Edmund ran, faster than his eyes could see in the darkness, and he would barely brush past trees that guarded his path, not caring if he rammed his injured shoulder against dead wood. He did not care, he _could _not care.

Not when he felt cold, lifeless breath on the back of his neck, icy words whispering in his ears.

The trees grew closer together, black iron bars impeding his desperate flight. White vines hung like a web, light to guide his path, a trap to cage him for his pursuers. He tore his way through, ripping some vines, pushing others aside. The vines answered with inhuman shrieks, the garbled cries of the dying mingled with the dead laughter of his pursuers. Death rang in his ears, reverberated through his body, and Edmund vaguely realized that he was screaming with them.

Suddenly he was through the veil and he skidded to a stop, sliding to the ground just in time to miss running into a great tree. Two times his height it was in width, and while he scrambled to his feet, clawing at the tree to gain a purchase to push himself around it, it was too late. Dead faces grinned madly at him from his left, more from his right. Edmund whirled around, his back pressed against the great tree, and froze. _That _figure stepped towards him, and Edmund whimpered as it smiled in victory.

The figure drew close, its torn nose only inches from Edmund's; Edmund felt its lifeless breath on his face, stared helpless into its dark eyes. He could not move, could barely breathe. The figure laughed. "What we are, you will become," its gravelly voice whispered.

Edmund could not even scream, as the figure drew back and its one, fleshless hand reached for his throat. He was frozen, no strength left to fight against the oppressive cold, the irresistible draw of nothingness. The hand began to tighten, skeletal fingers crushing the rapid thrum of Edmund's pulse, and Edmund unconsciously mirrored the motion with his own hand. Only his fingers curled around black wool instead of flesh. "Help me," his heart cried and his lips moved, as death came ever nearer, ready to take him down into greater darkness.

Suddenly, the branches above seemed to part, for the sun and the cry of a sea bird. The brilliant light blinded Edmund, albeit in part his eyes were darkening from the growing pressure on his throat. But then the dead hand released him with a pained howl, and Edmund collapsed to the ground. He looked up as he gulped in precious breath, to see the shadow of outstretched wings hanging over the cowering dead, blocking the way to their intended quarry. A voice sounded, mighty and thunderous. "You have been conquered," the voice declared and the dead screamed.

Edmund could vaguely see _that _figure stagger forward. "No!" it protested, trying to reach Edmund past the snowy wings that now shielded him.

Another great voice sounded, the same voice, a different voice, and Edmund's heart leapt because it was _Aslan's _voice, and yet not. "You have been embittered."

The dead shrieked and hissed, melting into a shower of red-gold scales, save for _that _figure, who still struggled, not willing to give up its claim and reaching for its prey.

"You shall not take what is mine," came a third, same, voice, a whisper on the wind and yet brimming with power.

"No!" screamed the figure, tortured and furious, and Edmund watched as it disintegrated, body disappearing into darkness, its face, _that face, _slowly melting away until the dead eyes were no more.

.

Edmund still knelt on the ground, his body shaking, not daring to hope that it was gone, that he was safe. In front of him, the albatross – for the wings belonged to a large, brilliantly living, white albatross – lowered its protective feathers and turned to face the fallen king. The bird's eyes were piercing, deeper than the sea and brighter than the sun. But, while yet so different, Edmund knew those eyes. "Aslan," he whispered, his voice hoarse and bruised.

There was no flash of light, no strange metamorphosis. In one moment, the albatross became a lion. The Lion. It was undeniably Aslan, yet Edmund realized that something was…different. Not wrong, not suspicious in any way, but not quite the _same. _The memory suddenly struck him, of a conversation he and Lucy had had with Susan and Peter, not long after their previous journey to this world. The elder Pevensies had talked of Narnia, and their faces had been troubled. Susan's voice had betrayed an inner agitation, a frustration at not having the right words. She had told the younger two how, before leaving Narnia, she and Peter had seen Aslan _differently,_ a glimpse of something _else, _as if they was not really _seeing _him. Neither Edmund nor Lucy had understood what Susan had been trying to say, what Peter's pensive look had meant, not then. But now, somehow, Edmund could understand; and he, too, could not find words. Not the _right _words.

Aslan smiled gently, mysteriously. "You begin to see truly," the Lion said. At the resonant voice, Edmund felt the earth shake despite the fact it did not move. He wanted to throw his arms around Aslan, cower and hide, scream in anger, sob bitterly, laugh with pure joy. Aslan sat like an ancient sphinx, in regal calm, towering above Edmund and yet looking at him eye to eye. "What do you come to me with, my son?" came the commanding question.

Edmund, more a child now than he had been when he had first come to Narnia, lunged forward between Aslan's paws and clutched desperately at the lion's mane, burying his face in the soft, true gold. "I'm scared, Aslan," he sobbed. "It's so cold and the fire's so close, _it's _so close and I know, _I know_, and I'm so scared." He could hear Aslan's heart beating, and felt a purr that spoke more love than any words. And yet that love heightened his guilt and shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered into soft, golden fur, knowing he would be heard.

"Why do you apologize?"

Edmund's grip on Aslan's mane tightened. "Because I'm still a selfish little boy. I left Mickey, I left the others, I left Pith, and I was _thankful_. I've _killed, _Aslan, killed so many even as I looked into their eyes. I've sent others to die for me, I've _let _them die, from my own fear. And yet, all I want is for you to save _me._"

Aslan did not offer platitudes, or excuse Edmund his sins for all they took place in war, nor did he remind him of the many time Edmund had proven his worth, worked for justice, spared lives with abundant mercy. That was not what Edmund needed, not what his sense of justice would allow. Instead, the Lion, who was the greatest judge and knew Edmund's heart, said simply: "You are forgiven."

With those words, the memory of those terrible, hollow faces and the unmitigated guilt faded. It did not disappear, was not forgotten, but the One who could forgive – who had himself died in Edmund's place and thus could give him absolution – had lifted the heavy burden from the broken king. Edmund sighed and leaned further against Aslan, his hands shaking from the tumultuous emotions that had been cascading through him.

Yet one, insidious emotion was not swept away, one apprehension too deep. "I'm still scared." Edmund knew what was coming, knew what he would face, all-too soon. He just did not know if he had the strength to do so. "Aslan, please…" Edmund stopped, not knowing what he wanted, needed, to ask. _Help me? Send me to Narnia? Send me home? Save me? _

He breathed deeply, letting the scent of exotic spices and rainwater and that otherworldly _something _that was the scent of Aslan's mane wash over him. Would running away from what was coming really change anything? He could ask it for Lucy's sake, for Peter's and Susan's and Caspian's. But for himself? He could ask, he could beg, but what was the right question? Then Aslan nuzzled his shoulder and Edmund knew the answer, the question:

"Please, Aslan, what must I do?"

000000000000

Lucy wished she had insisted that Edmund call up occasionally for her to check on his progress, so that she would at least know where he was. Caspian, however, had reasonably pointed out that having Edmund shouting loudly every few feet was a good way to attract any dangers that might lurk in the hidden gorge. Still, Lucy would feel better when she saw him safely on the beach. This island made her uncomfortable in a way none of the other new lands they explored had done. There was something…wrong here.

Caspian sensed it too and had quickly suggested that they make their way down the plateau to meet Edmund at the mouth of the gorge. After some attempts at cajoling the miserable dragon, Eustace refused to move. So Lucy and Caspian carefully began climbing down. If Lucy overheard Caspian muttering under his breath about stubborn dragons and trouble-finding brothers, she ignored it. After all, she rather agreed with the sentiment.

They were nearing the bottom when Lucy nearly lost her handhold as the screams of dying men whipped like lightning through the slightly overcast sky. With renewed vigor, she and Caspian scaled down the steep slopes, drawing their swords almost as soon as their feet touched the bottom. Dashing towards where they had landed the boats, they were brought up short when they met with their similarly on-alert men, led by Reepicheep.

Both groups looked at each other for a moment, confused. Then Reepicheep lowered his rapier, his expression one of relief. "Thank Aslan. We thought some evil had fallen upon you."

Lucy frowned. "_We _thought the screams were coming from camp."

Reepicheep's grip on his sword tightened. "Then who…?"

Caspian visibly paled. "Edmund!" he exclaimed, sprinting away down the beach towards where they could assume the hidden gorge emerged from the plateau. Lucy followed immediately, not bothering to inform the others what was going on.

As she ran, hampered by the shifting sand, Lucy inwardly cursed her short-sightedness. Of course trouble had found Edmund. Of _course the sounds of the dead and dying were rising from the gorge. Of __course she was powerless to help her brother, to protect him, save him. She should have argued with Edmund, ignored his rational warnings against climbing down the cliff to his side. She should have __brought rope. Dash it all, she should have paid more attention to Eustace and maybe he would not be a dragon, would not have dragged them here, to yet another cursed island._

Her self-recriminations were put to a quick stop when she ran into Caspian's suddenly stationary back. "What?" Lucy looked around his broad shoulders and stared dumbly. Before them, across the narrow mouth of the gorge, was a tall, thick hedge, comprised of some plant with white branches that looked like bone, covered with small, black-green leaves. There seemed to be no way around the hedge, and Lucy could have cried in desperation when more screaming echoed through the gorge. Caspian growled and grabbed at one of the branches, only to reel back with a pained gasp, his hand dripping blood onto the white sand. Dark red glistened on the leaves, their sharpness now all-too apparent.

"Edmund!" Lucy shouted desperately, but her voice was drowned out by the chilling, gargled screams. Next to her, Rhindon was proving no match for the hard branches of the hedge. Then the screams stopped, the silence worse than the sound, for who knew what that meant for Edmund?

Suddenly the sun was blocked and the flap of giant wings eclipsed the silence. Lucy and Caspian dove to either side as Eustace landed precariously on the thin strip of beach, his tail splashing in the surg. The small form of a Mouse stood on the dragon's head, sword raised. "Use your strength!" Reepicheep shouted, his voice filled with pride that the boy-turned-dragon had come to help.

.

For indeed, the screams had scared Eustace and he had taken off from the plateau. He had been flying back to the ship, intent of just getting away, when he caught sight of the commotion on the beach and heard the panicked cries. Eustace's chest had twisted uncomfortably and he turned back, reasoning that, logically, it made sense to help out. After all, the _Dawn Treader _would not leave without his cousins and Caspian, and Eustace did not want to find the next island alone. When he had reached Reepicheep and the sailors, who were chasing after Caspian and Lucy, the Mouse had exhorted him to help save Edmund, who was apparently in some sort of danger.

Logic, combined with Reepicheep's encouragement and a bit of a slightly malicious desire to prove himself better than his cousins, bolstered Eustace's courage. So now he was attacking a hedge, tearing down the branches with his strong, armored claws. Lucy, watching with hope, was also relieved that Eustace had not tried to use his fire to burn through the barrier – it would do Edmund no good for Eustace to start a forest fire. Again.

Sooner than Lucy dared hope, Eustace had torn a large-enough hole in the hedge to let through a human. With quick, but heartfelt, words of thanks, Lucy dashed through the hedge. Caspian was close on her heels, and soon his longer legs overtook her. The forest was dark, but enough light peaked through the hole in the hedge that they could at least see the outlines of the trees. Wind rustled by them, but it was a warm wind, not the dead chill they had felt so far on this island.

.

As the gentle breeze pushed her, Lucy felt drawn, as if there was a voice telling her which way to go. So despite no sounds to indicate where Edmund was, despite the fact that Lucy could not catch the breath needed to shout for him, somehow she knew they were headed in the right direction. They only needed to get through the darkened forest, which grew darker with every step away from the opening in the hedge.

Then, suddenly, a clearing opened up in front of them. The trees seemed to be in a perfect circle, leaning away from the great, thick tree at the far edge of the clearing. Nonetheless, it was not the odd glade or the trees that caught Lucy and Caspian's attention as they halted at the edge. No, their eyes were fixed on the center of the clearing. There, brilliant and beautiful, was Aslan, taller than Lucy remembered, but not so tall that he towered above Edmund, who stood in the Lion's embrace. Caspian took a step forward, but Lucy caught his arm and held him back. She could see the trembling in Edmund's shoulders, heard that voice on the wind telling her to remain quiet.

How long they stood there, watching, Lucy did not know. Time seemed meaningless right then. She felt like everything was lazily drifting, as if barely moving on a hot summer's day. Edmund's back straightened, then, but time remained suspended, lethargic. It was only with the greatest reluctance that Edmund released his hold and Aslan's mane and turned to face them.

Lucy heard Caspian's quick intake of breath, but she ignored it. She ignored the _look _on Edmund's face, a look of confusion and emptiness. For the first time in her life, Lucy even ignored Aslan. Instead, she dashed forward and threw herself at her brother, half embracing him, half striking his chest in anger. She tried to yell at Edmund – for frightening her, for putting himself in danger, for getting hurt – but the words could not get past the lump in her throat. All that came out were distressed, angry whimpers, which frustrated her further.

Worse was that Edmund simply held her, letting her pound her fists against his chest despite the fact that he had probably been bruised by his fall into this gorge. Just as he had after her nightmare, he held her and murmured empty words of comfort, assuring her of his safety. For a moment, Lucy's anger rose, as well as her embarrassment; how could he be so calm when she was a mess after only _hearing _such terrible sounds? Then, however, she remembered the look on Edmund's face that she had previously ignored, remembered the shudder in his shoulders even in the presence of Aslan, and her anger turned to guilt. Whatever it was that had caused the haunting sounds, Edmund must have experienced it first-hand.

As Lucy's hysteria began to subside, she heard her name being softly called. Her back tensed. It was Aslan calling; perhaps he had been calling all this time and she had not heard him, but now she could not ignore it. Shame brought a pink tinge to her cheeks and she hid them against Edmund's chest. "Lucy," Aslan still called, his deep voice stern but kind.

Lucy took a deep breath and reluctantly stepped out of Edmund's arms. She could see her brother's face more clearly, and she ducked her head and the look he gave her: a look of understanding and some deep mystery clouding his dark eyes. Edmund moved to join Caspian, reassuring the older king in a quiet discussion, while Lucy turned and walked towards Aslan.

It was hard to look at the great Lion, something that had never happened before to Lucy. His eyes, as always, were full of love and empathy, of which Lucy felt completely undeserving. Her faith had fallen so low on this journey – was _still _low, even here, close to Aslan. She thought of all she had done: she had been so unforgiving towards Caspian after what had happened near the Golden Pool. And the spell. Oh, how she remembered her nightmare, and how she had played heedlessly with magic, magic that could have had such terrible consequences. She had been so weak – so desperate that she had forgotten the faith that had always sustained her before.

Lucy barely realized at first that she was softly confessing all this to Aslan. When she finally did recognize this, she froze for a moment; but then something – Aslan? – told her that, despite their nearness, Caspian and Edmund could not hear her. Just like, it seemed, Reepicheep and the others could not find them despite closely following Lucy and Caspian into the forest. Bolstered by this, Lucy finished speaking, letting Aslan know all her failures.

Aslan waited, quietly, patiently. Yet, when her voice trailed off, his eyes pierced her and she looked away. 'You have done these things," he said with a low voice, "and yet you hide their cause."

Lucy looked down at her boots, which had been a gift from Lady Gwai on the Lone Islands, a time that seemed so very long ago now. "I…I'm angry. And frightened. I've always hated when my brothers went to war, put themselves in danger. But usually there was _something _for me to do, some way to help! Now…now I'm just…weak and helpless and Edmund…Oh, Aslan, I know he hasn't told me how much danger he's in back…back on his merchant ship. And I can't _do _anything. I can't help him, I can't protect him, I can't save him."

As she spoke, tears welled in Lucy's eyes, tears that began falling when Aslan replied, "No, dear one, you cannot."

"But Aslan, he's my brother, I have to do _something_! I can't lose him, I can't let him…" her voice caught on a sob.

Lucy could not see Aslan's face, her eyes focused as they were on the ground. Oh, how she heard his voice, though, commanding, kingly, unyielding: "You must give him to me."

She flinched at the words. Caspian had said as much when they had whispered of the possibility of losing Edmund. Now, to hear Aslan say it was more terrifying than anything her imagination could conjure. "He's my brother, I can't…"

"Lucy," Aslan's voice was stern as he spoke her name in reprimand. "Edmund is _mine_. He has been given to you for a time, given for you to love, but he is mine. You must let him go and give him to me."

Lucy wept harder. "I can't, _please_!" The warm breeze rustled through her hair, but it was no comfort. She was scared, she was _angry_, angry at herself, at Aslan, at Edmund.

"Lucy." Aslan's voice was still stern, but there was such grief and love as well that Lucy was finally able to bring her head up and look at him. The Lion's eyes were pained but understanding. "Dear one, I died so that he would not." His words were not a boast, just a fact, one that spoke of his great love. "You must give your brother to me and be at peace."

"How?" she begged softly.

"Put your hope in me," Aslan answered with a quiet, reverberating echo, "and not in yourself, and all evil will be turned to good."

Lucy closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to loose herself in the sweet scent that filled the air around Aslan. She did not see how the evil of losing Edmund could _ever _be turned to good, but the last remnant of her faith spoke through her: "I'll…I'll try," she said and opened her eyes to soak in the sight of the Lion.

Aslan smiled gently. "And I will give you strength." And indeed, Lucy's heart already felt a wave of calm. It did not drown her anger or fear, but she knew she only had to grasp it to kindle her flickering faith.

Slightly overwhelmed, Lucy threw her arms around Aslan's neck, burying her face in his mane. "Thank you," she whispered before stepping back. Lucy felt, in that moment, that even if she was not completely free from her troubles, there was at least an assurance of peace in the future. She just had to get through the darkness that had been threatening to envelope her since her family had been separated.

Aslan nodded regally at her, as if he knew her thoughts and approved. Then the Lion turned and Lucy rejoined Caspian and Edmund, who had been waiting patiently. Aslan first directly spoke to the older king: "Caspian, my son, stand fast to your purpose and follow your duty." The Lion smiled gently. "And do not despair." Caspian bowed and Lucy could not see his face. Then Aslan addressed all three. "Children, you will face hard trials until the end. Trust in that which saves."

And then they blinked and Aslan was gone.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

Eustace had not followed the others through the jagged hole he had made in the prickly hedge. Lucy and Caspian had hurtled past him, chasing the terrible screams; Reepicheep and the other sailors had quickly followed, but Eustace stayed put. Surely it was enough that he had torn the hedge. That had been good, right? Surely they were not expecting Eustace to go into the forest with them. He _would _not go, even if they wanted him to. Not with the tastes wafting back at him, tastes that disturbed him more than the sound of screams. His tongue was telling him of _something _in the forest. Eustace could not make it out, but it was a taste of hideous darkness and something worse, like the _something else _that surrounded Edmund.

After the fifth time the second group of searchers had ended up back at the hedge for no discernible or logical reason, Reepicheep gave the darkness a name: enchantment. But enchantment did not seem to cover the _something else, _the taste that was ten times worse than the darkness. Without being able to use his tongue for words, though, Eustace could not articulate the issue. Instead, he just sat half in the surf – the others actually fit on the beach – and waited next to a worried and pacing Reepicheep.

Figuring out the passage of time had never been Eustace's strong suit, so he did not even try to figure out how long it took before there was a rustling in the forest. He tasted before he saw Lucy, Caspian, and Edmund emerge through the broken hedge, to the relief of those gathered. Reepicheep, his own relief evident in his smile, explained the enchantment that had kept the Narnians from following their king and queen, which Eustace's cousins and Caspian seemed to take with easy understanding. Eustace was not a complete idiot, despite what the others seemed to think, and he saw that Caspian, who was describing the forest, was using the enchantment theory to avoid explaining what exactly had happened. The other might believe that an enchanted forest had made them all _think _they were hearing screams, made them run after Edmund who had been perfectly safe. Eustace, however, did not believe this for one moment.

After all, he had tasted the horror in the air, tasted that _something else _that still clung to a silent Edmund.

Unfortunately, Eustace could not comment on the _something else, _could not ask if his cousin was alright, ask why Edmund was so pale. While Eustace would be surprised if Reepicheep did not suspect something – the Mouse seemed to know everything – everyone simply accepted Caspian's weak explanation and headed back to the longboats. The results of having an absolute monarchy, Eustace suspected. No one wanted to question the king.

.

The quiet group of Narnians began embarking on the longboats and Eustace held back a groan. As much as he wanted to leave this island and its lingering tastes, he was not looking forward to _more _flying. Still, as the longboats left the shore, Eustace followed behind without complaint – particularly as he could see that Lucy was worried about Edmund. He had not noticed it Before, but the taste in the air around her was unmistakably fear. And Eustace was beginning to wonder…was it the _something else_? Did Lucy sense its cloying presence, too? Did it mean…something really _was _wrong with Edmund?

There was a strange feeling again in Eustace's chest at the thought. He did not _want _there to be something wrong with his cousin. The realization startled Eustace so much that he nearly veered a wing into the water as he approached the _Dawn Treader_. When had he begun caring?

Eustace remembered Edmund talking to him on the island of gold, how his cousin had offered to stay there with him – and what Edmund had risked in doing so. Perhaps that was when Eustace had begun to realize that his cousin was not the distant, horrid, perfect being that Eustace had constructed in his memory. Edmund was a _person_, and Eustace was beginning to understand that there was something _special _about that. With a flap of his leathery wings, Eustace looked on as Edmund and the others were hoisted on board the ship. He was surprised again to realize that he, well, he would like to get to know his cousin.

If only that horrible taste would go away.

The wind had picked up, so Eustace was not pressed into dragging the ship towards the blue star, for which he was thankful. While it had actually felt…good to be of some use, the _Dawn Treader _was heavy and Eustace's tail was still sore. Instead, Eustace flew alongside the ship, being careful to keep his long wings away from the sails and ropes.

However, Eustace _did _stay somewhat near the crow's nest. He was not _hovering_, he did not _hover _as a rule, but he flew as near to the nest as he could. Eustace was not _worried _about Edmund, who had climbed up to the crow's nest and was sitting there silently, with the _something else _still weaving in the air around him. No, Eustace just knew that it could be a good idea to keep an eye on his cousin, because _who knew _how stable that mast was, and Edmund being injured might slow the ship and Eustace would get tired again. Yes, that was why he was flying there.

From this vantage point, Eustace could also watch the others on deck. The captain was at the wheel, probably just as frowny as always. Caspian was casually leaning against the mast, sharpening his sword (which, apparently, used to belong to Eustace's oldest cousin, Peter. It had taken Eustace an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that Peter was the 'High King' that everyone held in such great regard). Lucy sat on a barrel next to Caspian, ostensibly repairing a chipped harpoon, but she seemed to be looking upwards more than down at her work. The rest of the Narnians hurried about their work, more quietly than usual. Eustace did not see Reepicheep anywhere. Then again, the Mouse had darker fur and in the hastening twilight it would be quite hard to make him out against the dark wood of the ship.

Unlike the coat of another creature on the _Dawn Treader_. Eustace caught sight of a small bundle of yellow-white fur sitting on the dragon figure-head. A long, fluffy tail swished forlornly, back and forth, as Cream stared out at nothing. Eustace rolled his eyes. Was _everyone _on this ship moping? It had been bad enough that the cat seemed to keep a continuous, pitiful cry going since that one sailor left. Now Edmund was moping in the crow's nest. Lucy and Caspian were worried, which was almost certain to turn to moping if Edmund did not soon reassure them that he was alright. And if all the – Eustace sighed – _kings and queens _kept moping, _everyone else _would probably follow their lead. The _Dawn Treader _would become the _Dawn Stare-morosely-into-the-distance. _Funny how even a couple of days ago Eustace would have held a smug satisfaction at the others being as miserable as himself.

Now he found the possibility rather annoying.

.

It must be said that the best intentions do not always result in good outcomes. This is especially true when those with the best intentions do not have sufficient knowledge and practice with doing good things. For example, Eustace did not know a lot about cats. Particularly, he did not know that it might not be the best idea to pick up an unsuspecting cat, fly her upwards, and then drop her into the unprepared lap of a distracted king. This usually would not result in the intended consequence of cheering up both parties through mutual comfort. The usual result would have been a painful death, perhaps even for the cat.

Thankfully, Cream was too utterly startled to do any harm. Edmund recovered from his shock first and quickly grabbed the cat's scruff while wrapping his other arm protectively around her, keeping her cocooned in his lap. He waited until the cat's heartbeat slowed down to the pace of a hummingbird's before slowly releasing his firm hold on her scruff. As she settled down, Edmund began softly petting the cat and she unconsciously leaned into it. Since Pith's sacrifice, Cream had not let anyone too near her. Now, removed from choice, the cat gave in to instinct and let the human pet her, allowing the smooth strokes to comfort her, despite the fact that he was not _her _human.

The action comforted Edmund as well. It is hard to remain stressed when petting a cat, particularly when she begins to knead her paws against your leg and starts purring. Edmund did not know what exactly Eustace had been trying to do, but after several minutes, Edmund found himself almost grateful to his cousin. "I suppose being turned into a beast is making him a bit less beastly. But, good intentions aside, you know he can't really do anything to help," he murmured idly to the cat in his lap. Then Edmund sighed, giving in to temptation and confiding in the dumb beast, "I don't know if I can do this." Cream twitched her tail, but did not look up from her kneading. "I know what Aslan said, and I want…I want to trust him. I _need _to trust his words, or I think I may go mad." Cream purred and kneaded particularly sharply. "Ouch! Yes, I get it, I should stop thinking of myself. It's just…" Cream butted her head against him, leaning into his hand as she did so, a comforting movement, but an insistent one. Edmund smiled at the gesture, however unintentional it was on the part of the cat. "Alright, alright, I'll stop wallowing."

Drawing in a heavy breath, Edmund focused his eyes on the eastern horizon. It was the grey-black of new night, but stars glittered in a swath across the sky, a path leading into the unknown. No, unknown was the wrong word. The shadowed known? The inevitable? Edmund shook his head and focused first on the blue star which lit their way. Then he looked down at Cream, who was staring at him with her eyes in slits; he had ceased in his attentions to her, for which she was displeased. "Sorry, girl," Edmund said softly, "no more petting." He paused. "Now, how in the world am I going to get you down from here?"

.

In the end, Edmund decided that since he had created the situation, Eustace could help them get them out of it. After a bit of yelling and explaining, Edmund soon found himself lifted in the air with his arms holding tightly to a very disturbed cat. Within moments, he was falling the last few inches to the deck of the _Dawn Treader_. He dropped on his knees in order to not break his legs, and he released the distressed Cream at the same time in order to keep from being clawed to death.

Edmund quickly rose to his feet as Cream scampered off. Brushing the dust from the knees of his trousers, Edmund looked up as Lucy and Caspian approached, their faces wary. Edmund gave them a smile that was more real than it would have been a few minutes before. "No sign of land, and we're not likely to see much in the dark. We'll just have to keep a close eye on the blue star." It was said so normally that Lucy and Caspian seemed caught off guard.

They recovered quickly, glad to see Edmund at least acting as if he were well. Still, Caspian eyed him carefully. "Of course, I'll let the next watch know." Edmund was a bit surprised at what Caspian said next: "Now, _you _are to go with Lucy and have your arm looked at. And no arguing; how you managed to get up to the crow's nest, I don't know, but don't think we didn't notice that you mostly used one hand."

In fact, Edmund had barely noticed it at all at the time. His bad arm had been nudged to the back of his mind; he vaguely wondered if Aslan had pushed away the pain during their meeting. Now, however, the reminder of his injury had brought back the pain in full force, plus some: climbing to the crow's nest had inadvertently aggravated his shoulder. Lucy took one look at his face, which was rapidly becoming blanched, and bustled him off to her cabin while Caspian set off to find the assigned lookout for this particular watch.

.

As soon as the door closed, Edmund felt his knees begin to buckle. Thankfully, it was not far to the table near the window. With Lucy's help, Edmund collapsed in one of the chairs, curling in against the agony of his right shoulder. "Let me see," demanded Lucy in the soft but stern voice of a healer who would not be gainsaid. Almost petulantly Edmund shook his head with the slightest motion, not wanting to actually move. It took some coaxing and threats of sedation for Edmund to finally allow his sister to gently unfasten his vest and shirt in order to better examine his injured side.

Edmund did not need's Lucy's pinched look to tell him that there was heavy bruising along his right side, or that his shoulder was swollen. He winced as Lucy turned a glare on him. "I…may have run into a tree when I fell off the cliff."

Lucy held the glare for another moment, then sighed. "You won't be able to use that arm for several weeks if it's left like that. And with our luck, we will probably have less than a day before we run into some trouble where you'll need the use of _both _arms."

Edmund winced again, as Lucy moved his arm to check the extent of the swelling. "Let me guess: your solution is…"

"Cordial," they concluded in unison, and a giggle escaped Lucy before she collected herself into her usual 'serious healer' look. "Think of it as necessary for the good of the crew. Their lives may depend on you being able to move your shoulder without doubling over in pain."

"Somehow, I still don't think that's what Peter meant when he insisted you only use the cordial for mortal wounds," answered Edmund, but he allowed her to administer the fireflower juice anyway; the sweet, fiery liquid worked quickly and soon his shoulder was as good as new, the bruises rapidly disappearing. It was not long before he was able to tie up his shirt again without hindrance.

Lucy stoppered the diamond flask. "I doubt Peter would complain that I do whatever it takes to keep you healthy and alive." Her voice was strained, and her face pinched despite the casual words. The sounds of her concern hit Edmund hard, considering what had happened on the dead island, what Aslan had said. Edmund tried to hide his reaction, but Lucy caught it anyway. "Ed, what is it?"

"It's just…" What to say? Not the whole truth, certainly; Edmund did not want to think of it himself. But perhaps he could at least give her some reassurance, try to help her understand before…Edmund spoke, hoping the right words would come. "Lu, Peter understands the risks we take, regardless of the consequences."

By the frown Lucy was giving him, she did not agree. "He told you this, did he?" she asked, her tone that of mocking disbelief – Susan would probably have sighed and complained about Lucy spending too much time around Edmund growing up. Susan would probably be right.

Edmund, true to form however, just smiled crookedly. "Yes, in fact he did." At Lucy's curious look, he decided that it would be good – for both of them – for him to elaborate. "Well, you know I went to see him at the Professor's in London before I shipped off on my first convoy…"

_._

_Flashback_

.

Edmund held his breath as he knocked on the door. He took a moment to be thankful that merchant seaman had no uniform, unless one counted the small 'MN' pin on his collar. Then again, maybe it would be easier to show than to speak. Actually, it would be easier overall to continue to let Peter believe Edmund was with Lucy in Cambridge, but he could not do that to his older brother. It would be hard, but Peter deserved to know where Edmund was and what he was doing. Moreover, Edmund wanted the High King's blessing, something he had never gone to war without before. They may not be in Narnia, but such ingrained duties were hard to discard.

The door opened on his fourth knock, revealing the bespectacled, wizened face of Professor Kirke. The corners of the old man's eyes wrinkled as he smiled, easily recognizing the young man on his doorstep. "Ah, young Edmund! My, this is a surprise. Come in, come in!" Edmund followed the professor into a tiny atrium. "You must know how sorry I am that I could not accommodate yourself and your sister here while your parents are away."

Edmund politely rebutted his apology, not wanting the man to feel badly for falling on hard times, for which the professor seemed grateful. As he let Edmund past, Professor Kirke apologized for not answering the door sooner – it was just that his translating work was engrossing and he had not heard the first few knocks. "But I've taken up enough your time with this chattering. I suppose you're here to see that brother of yours. He's become one of my best students, always a nose in his books, when he's not on Home Guard work. Polly visits every so often to make sure we haven't forgotten to eat. But that's beside the point. Your brother is in the room at the top of the stairs, to the left." Thanking him, Edmund started up the stairs, only to be stopped by the Professor's parting sentence as the old man made his way to the kitchen; 'Tell Peter to keep the shouting to the minimum when he sees that pin of yours – I'm in the middle of Clement's _Stromata_." And with that, Edmund was left alone to climb towards the inevitable confrontation.

The door was closed when Edmund reached the top of the stairs. Steeling his nerves, Edmund knocked sharply, waiting for the sound of a muffled "Come in!" before closing his fingers around the doorknob and pulling. Edmund peaked around the door, and had to smile at the sight of Peter sitting at a small desk in a cramped room, his head hunched over a large volume of Greek. Before Peter could look up at him, Edmund decided to try and head off things: "The Professor says not to yell at me and disturb his reading."

At the sound of his voice, Peter leapt out of his chair and would have knocked it backward onto the floor had it not been hemmed in by the bed. It was rather amusing to watch Peter try to untangle himself from chair and desk, anxious to get to his brother as Edmund stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. As soon as the untangling finished, Edmund happily found himself with an armful of older brother. "Edmund! How on earth are you here? Is Lucy with you? Don't tell me you're skipping school. By the Lion, it's been too long!"

"Good to see you too, Peter," said Edmund as clearly as he could, what with Peter doing his best to smother him. "And no, Lucy's not here, though I'm sure she'll have my head for not visiting before the convoy sets sail."

Guilt pinged at Edmund as Peter's joyful embrace froze. "Convoy? What…?"  
Edmund winced as Peter slowly drew back and held his shoulders at arm's length. Blue eyes roved over his sailor's clothes, focused intensely on the pin. Peter's face went pale and his hands tightened almost painfully on Edmund's shoulders. "Edmund, what have you done?" demanded Peter, his voice low and shaky.

Edmund could not prevent his own gaze from lowering at the fearful, hurt look in Peter's. "I joined the merchant navy."

Peter exploded. "What! Are you _insane! _What in Aslan's name possessed you to _do_ such a thing?"

"Shh, the Professor…"

"Hang it all, Ed! You're barely fourteen years old yet, you shouldn't even be _allowed _in the navy!"

Seeing that Peter was nearing either apoplexy or a dead faint, Edmund firmly gripped his brother's arms and forced him to sit on the small bed. He sat next to Peter, entwining his right arm with Peter's left and leaning against the older boy. "For one thing, they think I'm fifteen," he said calmly. "And I'm simply a cabin boy." He wisely refrained from mentioned the off-the-record training that the RNVR seamen were giving him in manning the large guns.

Peter was not placated by these reassurances. "Cabin boys go down with sinking ships the same as anyone else," he insisted heatedly, but his voice had thankfully lowered from its previous volume. "And how did you convince them you're older than you are? There are records…"

"The ship's master didn't look too hard," Edmund admitted with a shrug, "and Dad helped with the rest."

"Dad?" Peter blinked and a look of fury fell over his face, though Edmund was not sure Peter was angry at their father or his younger brother. Knowing Peter, it was most likely that Peter was furious with their father for falling for one of Edmund's schemes.

Deciding to move the conversation in a different direction – Dad would see anger enough whenever Mum found out about this – Edmund squared his shoulders. "Look, Peter…"

"What ship are you on?"

Edmund raised an eyebrow at the soft, firm question. "What?"

Peter's eyes were alight with determined fire. "What ship are you on?" he demanded.

Of course, Edmund knew this question would come sometime and so had prepared a suitable answer accordingly. "Hah! I'm not so stupid as to tell you that!" he teased. "Besides, the master has a full crew already, he wouldn't take on an untrained landlubber who hates boats. And," he added when Peter still looked to object, "I've already made friends with the secretaries at the ship line's offices. Told them a sad story about how my older brother once contracted a severe illness that left him with intermittent lung problems so that he's unfit for strenuous duties – despite trying to hide his health problems for the war effort, of course."

Peter stared at Edmund in disbelief. "But that happened in Narnia and Lucy healed me!"

With a characteristically sly grin, Edmund shrugged. "Yes, but I didn't tell them _that_, and so they kindly agreed to keep an eye out in case you tried anything. I gave them a very good description of you, by the way." Peter's face was really something to see; still, perhaps it should not be turning that specific shade of red. Oh well, in for a penny… "Always good to get the support of the secretaries. I _did _have a hard time keeping a straight face when they kept referring to you as 'that poor lamb'."

"Ed!"

"Pete."

The two brothers stared at each other for a long moment, Edmund calmly and Peter struggling to rein in his tumultuous emotions. Finally, Peter's complexion lost its red tinge and settled at 'a little too pale'. "Ed, why would you do this?"

The disappointment and fear in Peter's voice was hard to take. Sighing, Edmund did not even try to make a crack about escaping Eustace to keep his sanity intact. He knew exactly what Peter was asking, and could do no less than answer truthfully. "I spent four months fighting the Telmarines, Peter. Four months seeing what they did to our land. Our people. Even accounting for hidden Creatures and sleeping Trees, there were so many fewer Narnians left than had lived before, even under the White Witch.

There were stories, too, that Trufflehunter and others told me. About when the Telmarines conquered Narnia, the things they did. Knowing how the Telmarines were in our time," Peter's hand tightened around his, "well, I didn't disbelieve them." Edmund looked down at the floor. "When we came back here, back to the air raids, the bombings, the propaganda that isn't all lies…it's like all of that, all that happened to Narnia is happening here. And I _couldn't_ stop the Telmarines from conquering Narnia, from destroying Cair Paravel, from almost eradicating our people. But I _can _do something here. I can help the merchantmen run the Atlantic, bring supplies for our soldiers, for the people who are suffering."

Peter's shoulders slumped, but he was not ready to give up. "And you have to join the merchant navy to stop the Nazis? You can't work on a farm, or in a factory, or _something _that doesn't make you a direct target of the enemy?"

"Leaving aside my rather atrocious attempts at farming in the country before Hendon House was bombed…well, Hendon House, a _school,_ was bombed. Factories and farms are as much a target as any ship – which goes back to my point of wanting to fight back against the people who would do that. _You're _in danger just living in London, let alone leading its Home Guard."

"I'm not in charge of _all_ of it…"

"Regardless. Peter, we're all in danger. Why the merchant navy? For practical purposes, it was easier to circumvent the age restriction since it mostly involved dealing with an individual ship. Personally…they're the connection between Britain and our allies, the lifeline of this island considering we're pretty much only a couple of convoys away from starvation." He smiled. "And of course, it's nice to be able to go to sea knowing there aren't any sea serpents in the water."

Peter did not share in his humor. "No, only U-boats."

Edmund looked directly at Peter. "I'm willing to take that chance. I need to do this, Peter. I need to do something to help the innocent people here, and I can do that with the merchant navy. Do you…do you understand that?" _Please understand._

A myriad of emotions played across Peter's face. Edmund knew that Peter could relate to wanting to do more to defend the innocent, to protect their family. But he also knew that Peter loathed letting Edmund face danger alone, wanted him to stay in what safety was afforded Cambridge. Edmund also knew that Peter was the only person in two worlds who could command him not to go to sea and he would actually obey. And it was as if Peter could read that fear in Edmund's face, for the older boy closed his eyes and took a stuttering breath. "I…I understand." Striking blue eyes opened, full of fear but also pride. Placing his hands again on Edmund's shoulders, Peter placed a kiss on the top of his little brother's bowed head. "Aslan be with you and protect you, my brother, and bring you home again."

Edmund smiled and answered the blessing: "Aslan will that I come back to you, my king, else may we meet in Aslan's Country."

Peter shuddered at the reference and pulled Edmund into a tight embrace. "Don't you dare die, Ed," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't you _dare_."

It was the order Peter always gave when they were sent separately to battle, and the only command that Edmund never gave an answer to, but had never yet disobeyed. So instead of answering, Edmund just leaned into the embrace, memorizing the feel of his brother's arms and the sound of his voice. The brothers would spend the rest of the day together: laughing, relating their favorite memories, and enjoying the biscuits that Polly had sent over the day before. But for right now, they just held each other, praying that it would not be the last time.

_._

_End Flashback_

.

Lucy was quiet as Edmund finished telling her of Peter's reaction. He had not told her every detail, the emotions he had felt during that time or the extent of Peter's reaction, but Edmund hoped she would understand that Peter had at least accepted his choice to risk his life in war. By the look on her face, she still did not accept the same. "I think I can agree with Peter that I don't want…Ed, I want to make sure you come home safely, too."

It was with great effort that Edmund kept himself from biting his lip, Aslan's words echoing through his mind. What could he _say_? He could barely contemplate the words _himself_, let alone tell his little sister. Edmund did not even know if he could tell this to _Peter _if he were here. How could he…Suddenly, Edmund knew what he had to say, how to explain things to Lucy without acknowledging what Edmund was still trying to understand himself.

Edmund covered Lucy's hand, which was lying on the small table next to him. Looking her straight in her wide, blue eyes, eyes so much like Peter's, he said firmly: "Lucy, it is _not _your responsibility to keep me alive."

Instantly, Lucy protested. "How can you say that? I'm a healer and a warrior and your _sister_. How can I _not _do everything in my power to….to protect you, to save you?"

Edmund squeezed her hand, keeping her from tugging it away in her upset. "I didn't say you shouldn't help me. I couldn't stop you from trying to protect me anymore than I could stop trying to protect you." He took the cordial from her free hand and set it on the table, before taking both her hands in his. "What I said is that you are not _responsible _for me. I know perfectly well that I take risks, I get in all sorts of trouble. I'm not _blind_, I know what it does to you and Peter and Susan and Caspian. I know I hurt you all by joining the merchant navy – it's why I put off telling Peter until the last moment. You can't know how much I hate hurting you. But Lucy…" he squeezed her hands again, gently. "Lu, it's _my choice_. _I'm _responsible for what happens to me. _I _made the decision to become a warrior_, I_ made the decision to join the merchant navy. _I _made, and _will _make, the decision to risk my life to help others. And if…if something happens to me because of that, _you are not responsible._"

"We know," Edmund and Lucy both looked up, surprised that they had not heard Caspian slip into the room and close the door. The older king walked over and leaned against the wall next to them. "But knowing and accepting are two different things." Caspian looked hard at Edmund. "Would _you _be willing to give in to such a dark fate?"

Edmund slowly released Lucy's hands and sat back in his chair. Although two sets of eyes rested on him, waiting for an answer, Edmund took his time to think. Here he was, asking his family to accept what fate lay in store for him; but deep within himself, he still burned to fight against it. That was a bit hypocritical of him, was it not? _Was _he willing to accept the path his choices would lead him to? "I don't know," Edmund finally answered. "I just know that I don't want either of you, _any _of you, feeling guilty for something_ I _did. For something that's out of your control."

"I _want _it to be in my control," said Lucy, her soft voice lingering on the air. She looked over at Caspian who gave her a sympathetic look that seemed no comfort at all.

Edmund tried to think of something to say to that admission, but before he could there was a knock on the door. "Your majesties?" came the strident tones of Captain Drinian.

"Enter," called Lucy before either king could say anything.

The captain entered and bowed. "Your majesties, land's been spotted and the blue star has stopped over a tall mountain. Looks to me to be Ramandu's Island, if I'm not mistaken."

All three stood straight at that. "Thank you Captain," said Caspian. "We will be there shortly." Drinian bowed and left.

Edmund knew there would be no returning to their previous conversation, not now. As if agreeing, Lucy spoke up with false cheerfulness. "Shall we?" By the excited gleam in Caspian's eyes, there would be no argument there. Therefore, without further words, the kings and queen made their way up to the deck.

By the time they got up there, the ship had drifted near enough to plainly see the island. In the extraordinarily bright starlight and moonlight that was so prevalent in the Eastern skies, it was easy to make out the contours of their destination. It looked exactly as it had on Coriakin's map: steep, rocky cliffs overflowed with vegetation; waterfalls tripped over the sides, glittering in the starlight, and crashing into the lapping waves; and, towering above, a great mountain rose towards the diamond glow of the rising moon – the Mountain of Light.

Edmund could almost see Caspian's mind working. With the sky so bright, it would be feasible to go ashore, even in the slowing deepening night. The blue star shone alluringly above the island, and even Edmund felt drawn to go closer – he could only imagine what Caspian was feeling and what that would lead the older king to decide. Sure enough, Caspian turned to Drinian and ordered: "Captain, have the longboats readied."

Apparently Drinian had predicted the same as Edmund, for he answered: "The landing party has already been selected and awaits your orders."

Caspian looked over the assembled men and grinned. "Then let's go ashore."


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

They had to anchor the _Dawn Treader _some ways offshore, in case of rocks. Eustace flew on ahead and found a small, sandy shore on which the longboats could land. For himself, Eustace found a nice shelf jutting off the side of one of the cliffs that would do the tired dragon nicely – with all the trees and thick vegetation it was unlikely he could be able to go further inland, at least for the night.

Five longboats landed on shore; only the watch had stayed on board the _Dawn Treader_ with the First Mate, to take care of the ship. After mooring the boats, they set out to search for Aslan's Table. Assuming from what Coriakin said, that it was near the base of the Mountain of Light, they decided to head inland – of course, first they had to find a way off the beach, surrounded as it was by towering cliffs. They had to follow the shoreline a little while before one of the sailors found a stone staircase carved into the side of the cliff. It was worn down and overgrown, but it was their best way upwards and over the seacliffs.

Steep as the steps were – though not as bad as the dead island's white plateau – the climbers had no breath for talking. Thankfully the moonlight, and particularly the blue glow of their guiding star, kept their path well lit and there were few stumbles. When they reached the top, they found an overgrown path of large, grey stones that shone with a blue glow beneath the star. Being the only path visible, it made sense to follow it as it seemed to wind further into the woods of the island. Trees encased the path on either side, but these were more reminiscent of the regal trees of the Western Wood than the blackened forest of the dead island.

The path soon turned into a long bridge, as the terrain grew more unwieldy. Crevices dotted the landscape, and waterfalls cascaded haphazardly into pools below. Edmund felt much more comfortable having the sold stone walls on either side as they walked – he had had enough of falling into ravines!

Along the long, meandering walls, stone statues stood silent, worn by wind and rain and time. They were of various creatures: ravens, bears, and animals that Edmund did not recognize. As the ground beneath grew more level, the walls and its statues tapered off, sinking into the flat before two large trees that entwined together to create a great archway. Soft mosses and low ferns spread in carpets on either side of the path and over the tree roots, a rich adornment to the majesty of the trees.

However, few paid very much attention to this as they stepped through the living arch, on account of two things which stole away their interest: one, that they could now see a wall of pale earth rising high above the treetops – the Mountain of Light. And two, at the foot of the great mountain stood a table, covered in all manner of strange dishes and foods. The undergrowth had wound its way up and onto the table, but that did not make the fresh food any less inviting.

Having subsisted on half-rations, and increasingly _stale _rations at that, the crew were eager to sample the delights before them. Still, only a few moved as if to touch the food, and they were held back by their crewmates. As tempting as fresh food was, the dichotomy between the freshness of the food and their weathered, overgrown and ancient surroundings was suspicious to most of them. Himself just as suspicious, Caspian ordered the crew to secure the perimeter, which was quickly done.

There did not seem to be any danger in the vicinity, but three dark piles of overgrowth at the end of the table caught Edmund's attention; he walked closer, followed by Lucy and Caspian. It was harder to see, with the tall trees blocking much of the light. They had only brought a couple of lanterns, unlit, since their oil store was low and they did not want to waste it. Edmund looked warily at the unlit candles on the table. "Should we light them?" he asked, not if they should chance it.

Caspian considered a moment, then nodded. "It would be best not to waste the lamps. But take care," he added as Drinian stepped forward with rock and flint. The captain hit a spark, lighting the first candle before quickly stepping back, just in case. When, after a few moments of waiting nothing untoward happened, the other candles were quickly lit, giving a warm, yellow glow to the grey stone of the table.

Thanks to the light, Edmund could now see the mounds of overgrowth at the table's end more clearly. What he saw made him almost jump back in shock. "They're people!" he nearly yelped. "And men if their beards are any indication."

"Dead?" asked Caspian as he and Lucy moved forward to see for themselves.

Before Edmund could even move, Lucy was by the side of the man closest to her, checking for a pulse and breathing. "He's alive," she announced. "I think he's just sleeping." An examination of the other two men revealed the same, but all attempts at waking them proved futile.

"I think their food didn't agree with them," commented Drinian wryly; the other Narnians looked more disappointed that they would not be able to taste the mouthwatering dishes before them.

Caspian, however, did not pay attention to the quip, as he was distracted by the signet rings on the clearly enchanted men's hands. "Those are the symbols of three of the lost lords," he stated confidently. "Lords Revilian, Mavramorn, and Argoz." He indicated each man in turn.

Edmund was about the ask Caspian what the last missing lord's name was – he could never remember it for some reason – when he saw Lucy staring intensely at the vegetation which was beginning to cover the table in front of the sleeping lords. "Lucy? What is it?"

The young queen hesitantly reached out and delicately pulled back some of the vines, careful not to touch whatever she was uncovering. "Oh!" she exclaimed, although not particularly in surprise. Edmund moved closer and leaned over the table to see… "It's the Stone Knife," Lucy said softly, but her voice carried in the wind, sending a chill up the spines of the Narnians gathered there.

Edmund stared at the knife, unsure of what he felt. Before him, glinting in the mixed silver-blue and gold of starlight and candlelight, was the weapon that had slain Aslan. The weapon that should have been his _own _death, all those years ago. Yet death had not taken him then, nor been able to keep Aslan – instead of one death, there had been two lives. In a way, the knife had brought about more life through taking Aslan's.

"Aslan's Table." Edmund blinked at the interruption to his thoughts. Caspian seemed to think he was confused, as he expanded on the comment. "Coriakin said that the Stone Knife was on Aslan's Table." The older king's eyes widened. "Do they still have their swords?"

.

A quick, but respectful, search through the overgrowth revealed that the three sleeping lords still bore the Eternals that had been entrusted to them. At Caspian's order, the swords were removed and placed – slowly and reverently – on the table, just above where the Stone Knife lay near Lord Revilian's hand. Two of the crewmen had been charged with bringing along Lord Octesian and Lord Restimar's swords, and they laid them on the table as well. Finally, Edmund removed his own sword from the scabbard. Lucy looked ready to object to him disarming, but Edmund knew that it was time to let go of the weapon. He placed it with the others and a sense of peace swept over him.

Then a warm chill rippled across him as he thought he heard a voice whispering. It was a male voice, as deep as the earth and as light as the air, echoing in the crash of the waterfalls and rustling in the leaves of the trees. Edmund felt that the voice was saying, "welcome," yet also, in the same word, speaking, "peace-grief-friendship-care". Startled, Edmund started to ask if anyone else hear the voice, but Lucy interrupted.

"Look!" She pointed towards the sky, which was lightening, the blue glow increasing. For a moment Edmund did not understand, but then he caught sight of the blue star. It was, somehow, leaving the sky, slowly moving _towards _them, towards the earth.

No one was sure how to react. Some of the Narnians readied their weapons, while others looked ready to flee. Some, like Caspian, were drawn forward as the light grew larger and brighter, touching the earth. Then, gradually, the light began dimming and Edmund was startled to see a figure emerge out of the glow, as if the light had gone into making its form.

Edmund heard Caspian's breath catch in the awed silence, and he had to agree with the sentiment. For the figure was that of a young woman, fair-haired and with deep blue eyes that reflected an inward light. Her faced seemed ageless, and she looked at them with an expression that made each there feel that she could read their soul. Her voice, when she stepped forward and spoke, carried the sound of the rippling of brooks over polished river-rocks. "Travelers of Narnia, I bid you welcome." Some of the men made to kneel in front of this woman with the presence of a queen; Edmund was surprised to note that this action startled the woman. It made her seem more human, somehow. "Please, arise."

The Narnians did as bidden. As they straightened, Caspian stepped closer, eyes never moving from the lady in front of him. "I am King Caspian X of Narnia. We thank you for your welcome. And, may I assume, for your guidance?"

The woman smiled warmly at him. "I am Lilliandil, the daughter of Ramandu. It is by my father's wishes that I was sent to guide you here." The lady – the blue star? – turned her smile to the other Narnians. "Please, Aslan's Table is for all who desire to partake; help yourselves as you would like."

The Narnians looked to their leaders and Edmund, ever wary, had to ask, "But what happened to them?" He nodded at the three lords.

Sadness crossed Lilliandil's face, sadness clearly unfeigned. "Several years ago, four men landed on our island, starving and weary. They sat to eat, but these three were soon drawn to quarreling and began to reach for the Stone Knife, to threaten violence towards one another. To do such a thing…" Her voice trailed off in confused astonishment, a sentiment Edmund shared – the thought of _using _the Stone Knife against another was insupportable. Lilliandil shook her head slightly before continuing her explanation. "They fell to this sleep as a result of their actions, not from the food."

"How can we wake them?" asked Lucy, her heart clearly going out to these men, despite what they had dared to do.

Lilliandil gave her a small smile and the two women shared a moment of understanding. "To wake them, you must sail to the end of the world and return here, having left one of your company behind."

Edmund winced at the solemn pronouncement which reminded him of what had happened with Sir Pith. From the look of it, Caspian was thinking the same thing. There was one among them, however, who did not find this remedy disturbing. Reepicheep stepped forward and bowed low. "My lady, to sail to the end of the world and search out Aslan's Country has always been my greatest wish. It would be my honor to be the one chosen for this task." The gleam in the Mouse's eyes brooked no argument, and at that moment Edmund knew that Reepicheep's future was set. "Let us set off immediately!" The diminutive knight declared excitedly.

Lilliandil regally bowed her head towards Reepicheep. "You are brave, sir knight. But there is a grave hindrance to this quest." The soft, blue sparkle in her eyes grew dark, and Edmund thought he could see lines of exhaustion in the lady's face. Suddenly, he wondered how difficult it had been for her, as a star, to guide them from place to place; wondered if the dangers they had faced on the surface of the world had been mirrored in the sky. Lilliandil did not speak of this, however, instead speaking of their own hindrance. "Between here and the end of the world stands another land."

"Dark Island," murmured Caspian, looking at Lilliandil with concern. Lilliandil nodded and Caspian's brow furrowed. He looked at the gathered Narnians, still waiting for a command and not quite as interested in the conversation as the kings and queen. "Before we can do anything, we must eat and rest. Captain, please make sure some of this food is taken back to the men on the _Dawn Treader_ and to Eustace – if that is alright?" he asked Lilliandil, who warmly agreed. "The rest of you may eat what you will; but don't touch anything other than the food." Given what had happened to the three lords, it was doubtful anyone would disobey that particular order.

.

As the men dug in to the food, Lilliandil, without needing to be asked, led the Narnian sovereigns away from Aslan's table. The three followed her on another overgrown path. The lady seemed to float effortlessly over the tangle of vegetation while Edmund, Lucy, and Caspian had to carefully watch their step to keep from tripping. Edmund supposed that her sense of balance came from being a star.

Lilliandil drew them to a stop near the edge of the island, a cliff high above the water with only an old, crumbled wall as a barrier. Edmund did not pay much attention to that, however. His gaze was drawn to the horizon. There, an ominous cloud of deepest black and poison green wrapped a dark landmass in its shadowed web. "That's…"

"Dark Island, yes." Weariness hung in the star's troubled voice. "Long has the power that dwells there sought to destroy."

"Destroy what?" asked Lucy.

"Everything," Lilliandil answered simply. "For all that my father holds the power of Dark Island in check, he cannot destroy it, nor can you sail past it to the end of the world."

Caspian stepped closer to the lady. "We would help you fight against this evil regardless of the necessities of our quest." He spoke with intensity, if also a bit of rashness. Edmund glanced at Lucy, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly. He returned the gesture and then he had to bite back a laugh as a thought came to him" Caspian really _did _have stars in his eyes when it came to Lilliandil.

Thankfully, Edmund was able to school his features before the besotted pair noticed – and he said pair, since nothing anyone else had said had brought a rosy tinge to the starlight of Lilliandil's cheeks. "Coriakin said that we would need to place the seven Eternals on Aslan's Table," Edmund commented in order to refocus the conversation.

Lilliandil managed to tear her eyes away from Caspian to look at Edmund. "My uncle is correct. Once all of the swords are returned to their rightful place, my father will be able to destroy Dark Island."

Lucy ventured to mention the problem with that, and with their quest, that they had all realized. "Only three of the lords are asleep at Aslan's Table. What happened to Lord Rhoop?" Rhoop! That was his name. Why could Edmund never remember that?

Lilliandil's eyes bespoke sadness and yet also pride as she answered. "He alone refrained from the conflict of his friends, and when they slept he was left by himself. My father, seeing Lord Rhoop's virtue, sought him out and asked if he would be willing to champion the lost peoples." She elaborated at their confused looks. "The people taken by the green mist are being held within Dark Island, simply so the power there could gain pleasure from their torment." Lilliandil's voice was tinged with bitter confusion, as if she did not understand how someone could take pleasure in causing pain. "As champion, Lord Rhoop could enter Dark Island with the Eternal he bore, carrying my father's power to the shores of the enemy's stronghold. He had held strong these many years, and the lost peoples remain caught but safe." The lady gave them an apologetic smile. "I fear, however, that this means that to save Lord Rhoop and the lost peoples, and to return the last Eternal to Aslan's Table, means that…" she trailed off and her eyes turned to the eastern horizon and the shadows there.

"We have to sail to Dark Island," Caspian concluded her sentence to foreboding silence.

Edmund softly broke that silence. "I think we all knew it could come to that." Then he spoke directly to Lilliandil. "You have guided us so far, my lady. Is there any way you or your father could help us with this?" Caspian frowned, disapproving of Edmund requesting something that might put a lady at risk. Edmund understood the attitude, and agreed for the most part that a lady should not be placed in danger. However, he also understood that sometimes it was necessary, or personally desired, for ladies to protect their homes – after all, while Susan had been the most gentle of ladies, she had been a most fierce protector when need arose.

"My father has forsaken his physical body in order to spread his power throughout the island 0 even then, it takes all his strength to hold back the darkness." Edmund was not sure sure he understood, but the lady's tone of voice did not invite questions on her father's current inhabitation. However, Lilliandil seemed almost disappointed when she continued. "For myself I do not have the ability to aid you except through guidance. As the power of Dark Island cannot pass onto this place, neither can we but skirt the edges of that dominion. It is why Lord Rhoop was needed to protect the lost people." Her eyes brightened, almost literally, and her smile gave the impression that she knew more than she was saying. "But we may give you rest here, and you may eat from Aslan's Table."

Somehow, Edmund felt like this was a greater aid than any martial force the stars could command.

0000000000

There was little more to be said. Night was already deepening, and the small group returned to Aslan's Table. The Narnians had already gone through much of the food prepared for them, particularly in feeding Eustace. Thankfully, it seemed that his food was…thicker, as one sailor put it, so, while the Narnians ate less, they were still full. After assuring that everyone had been fed, Caspian, Lucy, Edmund, and Lilliandil sat down on the stone benches to eat their share.

At least, Caspian and Lucy ate. With the table still crowded by those who had yet to finish eating, with all the pleasant chatter under the dim candlelight, no one noticed that Edmund was not eating. Although Edmund had covered a plate with the mouth-watering food, something within him balked at actually consuming it.

Oh, he tried to eat it, but the food seemed to turn to dust in his mouth. Edmund, however, was practiced enough not to let it show. Practiced, for he had never let on to anyone, not even Peter, that the effects of eating that enchanted Turkish Delight all those years ago had stayed with him. Usually it was not much of a bother, the fact that no real food ever compared to the enchanted, and he could ignore it easily enough. But sometimes, especially when food was very rich or delicate, Edmund would find the food nearly inedible – ashy and bland and a reminder of the past.

He had asked Aslan about it once, why the enchantment affected him despite the awe-filling forgiveness that the Lion had bestowed on him. Aslan had told him, with sadness in his velvety voice, that the effects of Edmund's choices would remain for a time. Not forever, but Aslan had not said when the curse would end. But Edmund had learned over the years to live his life fully despite it, and only occasionally did the curse interfere with his life.

Still, Edmund was not really surprised that the thought of eating anything right now was less than appealing. He had noticed how everything here seemed so much more intense. The air was lighter and warmer, save where they had stood in sight of Dark Island; the atmosphere there had still been light, but the west-blowing wind had been heavy, oppressive. The darkness in the east wind contrasted with the intense light of the stars and the moon, with the laughter of the waters, with the breath-taking majesty of the Mountain of Light. The war of darkness and light permeated every whisp of air, the darkness hanging, the light burning.

This intensity was affecting all of them: Caspian's dark eyes glinted with starlight, Lucy's years of wisdom shone in the reflection of the moon on her face. Reepicheep stood by himself to the side, his whiskers twitching furiously as he glanced between the Table and the eastern shore with longing. The Narnians who gathered in the clearing around Aslan's Table held themselves straighter, laughed more clearly. Edmund would even guess that Lilliandil would not shine so brightly were she merely gracing the woods of Narnia.

As for Edmund, he felt a bundle of intense contradictions. He was at peace, yet perhaps as frightened within as he had been on the last island, the island of the dead. He felt more sure of his judgment – of Lilliandil, of this place, of what he would do – than ever he had felt as a judge in Narnia; yet his stomach twisted in knots at having to trust that judgment when it came to facing his future. And, while the food before him was infinitely more appealing than Turkish Delight ever had been, even the smell of it made him turn pale with revulsion.

Thankfully, his inner conflict was not outwardly visible. Only Lilliandil, hostess as she was, took notice. Still, when he caught her piercing eyes looking at him, she merely gave a slight nod. He wondered how much she understood about what he was feeling, how much she knew about what he had done, what his future held.

Soon enough, most of the food was gone and the Narnians, their stomachs full, soon fell to a pleasant drowsiness. With the permission of the king and their lady hostess, the sailors dispersed, finding nooks and crannies filled with soft, clean moss to sleep on. Even Edmund felt exhaustion begin to take him, and so he and Lucy also found a soft patch of moss to share, both falling asleep almost before they finished lying down. Still, Edmund did not fall asleep before he noticed, with a smirk, that Caspian was not headed for sleep, but was still softly conversing with the lady of his dreams.

0000000000

Edmund's own dreams were surprisingly nonexistent that night. He thought he could hear the quiet voice from before – was it Ramandu? – singing a lullaby. But the song faded into his unconsciousness, and by the time he woke it was forgotten.

It was still night when Edmund woke up, dark enough despite the stars that he did not wake Lucy, who was curled up next to him. Edmund, however, was awake enough to know he would not be able to fall back asleep. He felt refreshed; those few hours of sleep had felt like an entire night-full. Slowly moving, so as not to wake his sister, Edmund got up and stretched before taking a look around the clearing. Everyone still slept on, their faces peaceful. Even Caspian had curled up in a cozy pile of leaves between two large tree roots.

While normally Edmund would have been alarmed that no one was on watch, here he felt as if it did not matter. As if they were being watched over by a greater power and need not worry. In the same was, Edmund felt drawn to move, walking closer to the base of the Mountain of Light.

The mountain began with a sharp slope, worn sides still showing faint signs of the ancient tools with carved the mountain's stone to make the table beneath it. There was nothing extraordinary-looking about the mountain. Still, there was an air of power around it, intangible and yet more real than anything. Though he walked near it, Edmund did not touch it, did not dare. To touch would surely be to burn.

A sound caught Edmund's attention and he turned to the right. A path, unseen before, curved round the mountain, into the trees. Curious, he started down the path, silver dust coating his boots. The path took him far, and yet not; time certainly did not seem to move. As Edmund reached what seemed to be the opposite, western side of the Mountain of Light, a familiar blue glow caught his gaze.

The path moved away from the mountain, towards the glow, so Edmund followed it through the trees to the edge of a tall cliff. Unlike the eastern side of the island, this cliff was guarded by intact stone walls, their intricate geometric designs unblemished by time or weather. At the wall stood Lilliandil, staring out to the western horizon. Edmund stepped forward and the lady turned slightly towards him, an invitation for him to join her.

Edmund moved to her side, slightly uneasy in her presence. Her smile was welcoming, but stern, her gaze said but bright. She was beautiful, true, but her beauty was of a king too high to be attractive – at least to Edmund, for he knew Caspian was drawn to her more than the others, who felt only awe and respect. Yet, Edmund did not distrust her for her beauty, not only due to her steady guidance on the seas, but because he sensed that she was as fair as her looks. Idly, he thought that she would make Caspian a good queen.

That was not for the two at the western shore to speak of, however. Instead, they looked towards the horizon, over which Edmund knew Narnia herself lay. He felt a pang of longing for his land: for the shores of Cair Paravel, for the Dancing Lawn; for the northern mountains, the inlands meadows, and the grassy hills bordering Archenland. Most of all, he longed for his own Western Woods, where he had spent many happy hours climbing trees, hunting deer, and speaking with his people. How many nights under the stars had he spent there?

Memories of moonlit hikes through the trees were interrupted as Lilliandil spoke. "This is one of my favorite times of the night." Edmund looked at her and she smiled, looking more like a young woman instead of stern queen as she did. "The falling stars are coming."

"What do you mean?" asked Edmund, confused. Had she said 'falling' or 'fallen'?

Instead of answering specifics, she pointed towards the western sky. In the distance there was a brief flash of light and Edmund squinted. More streaks of light crossed the black sky, lasting less than a moment. Gradually, more came, more and closer, and Edmund saw that they were shooting stars. Yet these were not like any he had seen before, even in Narnia. As the flashes drew nearer, Edmund could almost make out that the stars were not falling, they were _darting_. One would flash across the sky and then go dark, but there was still something there, something that would dart about in darkness before streaking light across the heavens once again.

More and more falling stars scattered this way and that, playing through the sky. Ever they drew nearer to Ramandu's Island. Soon the sky was sparkling with a lightning rain of diamonds. And from those diamonds came a sound. A song.

Birdsong.

Edmund's breath caught as the falling stars shimmer over his head, the flutter of wings sounding beneath sweet, melodious chirping. They were not stars – not like stars back home, not stars like Lilliandil and Coriakin. They were birds; hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny, silver birds. Lilliandil smiled at his astonishment. "Come, we must return to the Table." Edmund nearly protested, but she had already begun walking down the path, continuing on the other side of the Mountain of Light from where Edmund had come around before.

.

As the star-birds continued their swift, erratic flight above, Edmund followed Lilliandil in circumnavigating the mountain. When they reached Aslan's Table, Edmund understood a little why they had come. The table, once holding the remains of the Narnians' meal, was now covered with a rippling, frenzied blanket of tiny, silver birds.

Moving closer, Edmund stared at the birds in wonder. They were robins or, at least, they had the form of that tiny bird. Their back feathers were steel grey, though they shone with a light beyond the measure of any polished metal. Instead of red breasts, however, those feathers were bright silver, nearly white. The silver robins hopped around the table, chirping and fluttering with such speed that it was hard to keep track of a single, individual bird.

Their song was sweet, comforting, as fluttery as their movements. Still, with all the noise, it was surprising that none of the Narnians in the clearing had woken. No, the others continued to sleep soundly, without even an unconscious reaction to their environment. Edmund blinked and then frowned. "Why is no one else awake?" he politely demanded of his hostess.

If Lilliandil was offended by his slight suspicion, her serene countenance did not show it. Instead, she merely gestured at the table. "Few waken for the ever-meal."

Before Edmund could ask for clarification, a single bird raised his song above the others, his voice stronger and clearer. As if under command, all at once the silver robins took flight, fluttering to roost on the branches of the surrounding trees. Only about a dozen remained on Aslan's Table, but Edmund's focus was not on them. Instead, he was occupied by the strange contents on the table.

The remains of the previous meal were gone. Not just the food and drink, but the pewter plates and cups. Instead, the places were set with smaller, gold plates, with golden goblets filled with what smelled like wine. The now golden serving platters no longer held high piles of exotic foods, but short mounds of different breads and rolls, some plain, some twisted, some shaped. The candlesticks, once long and curved in the form of swans, were now tiered in a pyramid, with doves engraved on the sides. Amazingly, the candles were also still lit, a white glow against golden loaves of bread.

Next to him, Lilliandil quietly moved to the head of the table, opposite the sleeping lords, as was her right as hostess. Following her lead, Edmund took a seat at the middle of the table, the Mountain of Light looming protectively behind him. The silver robins that were left on the table bounded around as Lilliandil took some bread for her plat. Edmund, however, hesitated.

Why was he here? What was an ever-meal and why was he the only one awake for it, other than the star sitting to his left? Edmund felt at the same time as if he were the last person in the world who should be here, and as if he was the only one _meant _to be here.

Edmund's musings faltered as one of the silver robins hopped onto the edge of his plate, looking at him with a curious, piercing gaze. Unlike his fellow birds, still twittering the trees, this one had tufts of small, crimson feathers dotting his breast like tiny flowers, seemingly a symbol of leadership. As this robin looked at him, the others began quieting, awaiting their leader. After a long moment, the lead bird suddenly flitted his wings and darted almost straight at Edmund.

Interestingly, Edmund hardly flinched at the flurry of feathers headed towards his face before the the bird slowed to land gently on his right shoulder. Soft feathers brushed by his cheek and nestled against his neck. A smile spread across Edmund's face and he reached for one of the small, square loaves of bread, bread so soft that he barely had to pull in order to break a piece off. He offered it to the robin on his shoulder, who happily nipped a few crumbs.

Unlike the bird, though, Edmund still could not bring himself to eat. The darkness from the forest of the island of the dead still lingered in the hidden corners of his heart, and he could already taste the ashes. Oh, Edmund was hungry, his stomach yearning for food, but the shadow within still cast a pall on his appetite.

A trill by his right ear caught Edmund's attention. The robin's voice lifted up to the air a sweet solo of mysterious notes that seemed to pierce the night. First the dozen robins still on the table joined the sorrowfully glad melody, spreading the light of their leader's music; it rose higher and a multitude of quicksilver voices shone forth from the trees, rising to the heavens.

Edmund's breath caught at the music. The notes were like silver light splintering the air, the earth, the waters. Above all the small voices lifted to the dark velvet sky was the one at his shoulder. With each note the song rippled across Edmund's heart, breaking it, destroying it, remaking it. It was a song that transformed the worst, twisted, terrible darkness into the most exquisite Beauty. Rising further, the song reverberated through the lapping waves and carried on the wind, louder and clearer, until it broke upon the mountain, falling gently and returning to the sweet melody of the chief robin. The solo lasted for a precious few moments, before ending like a prayer that hung suspended in the ether for eternity.

It was only then that Edmund felt as if he could breathe again. The bird on his shoulder snuggled against his neck, chirping encouragingly as Edmund looked again at the bread still clutched in his hands. Whether because of the effects of the song or some real change, the loaf seemed different. _Edmund _seemed different, felt different. The darkness was not gone, but now seemed the footstool of light. The bread still seemed far beyond his worth, but the invisible barrier that had held him back was gone. Edmund uttered a quiet thank you, to the robin for the haunting song and to Aslan.

Then he ate.

.

It would be impossible to describe the bread, save that Edmund had never tasted its like, nor been filled by so little. If asked to describe the wine he drank after, Edmund would only have been able to say that it was warm, for anything else he would want to say lacked the words. He could speak forever and never fully describe the ever-meal. And yet, somehow, that inability seemed _right_.

When he was finished, Edmund sighed in contentment and peace. Only then did the robin flutter down from Edmund's shoulder, returning to his brethren on Aslan's Table. Almost unconsciously, Edmund reached out his left hand towards the gathered birds, although why he did so, he could not say.

The robins did not seem disturbed, however, and the leader of the flock hopped towards the outstretched fingers. The robin gave a little trill, then twisted his head to pluck one of the red feathers from his breast. The tuft came free easily and the bird quickly tucked the feather into the center know of the woolen tassel that hung at the end of the black, knotted rope that still wrapped around Edmund's wrist. That done, the leader of the silver robins hopped back, chirped again – an order and a farewell- and then took off towards the stars. Trilling a delighted song, the entire flock of robins followed, first a sheet of silver light and then swiftly becoming pinpricks of light against the black sky, their duties done.

Edmund watched the sky until the last falling star disappeared, a pang of sadness in his chest for the loss. "It is the nature of falling stars." Startled, Edmund turned and looked at Lilliandil, having entirely forgotten that she was there until she spoke. The lady only gave him an understanding smile. "Their lives are lived swiftly," she continued. "That they stayed for so long speaks loudly." But she did not say what it spoke of, and Edmund did not ask.

"There's nothing like this in Narnia," Edmund remarked quietly, the thought pricking at his mind. There was a sadness to that thought, that something so profound as the ever-meal did not exist in the land he called home. For even though this island existed in the same world as Narnia, there was a transcendence here beyond worlds.

Lilliandil's eyes matched the sadness as they flickered almost imperceptibly towards Caspian's still-sleeping form. "I know," she whispered, and Edmund's heart went out to her for the decision she would have to make should their quest be successful.

.

Almost as if awoken by the star's gaze, Caspian began stirring from sleep. In fact, all around the clearing that held Aslan's table, Narnians began waking from their short but restful slumber. The sweet depth of the robins' song had kept them lulled in comfortable rest, but the song's absence had disrupted their contentment.

As the Narnians began blinking and slowly getting to their feet, Lilliandil stood up from the Table and walked to the middle of the clearing. Edmund, who had courteously stood when the lady arose, followed her to where she stood facing east. One by one the Narnians woke and joined them, still just asleep enough not to wonder what they were standing for. That was, until Caspian came to stand between Edmund and Lilliandil and asked, "My lady, what is it?"

Lilliandil turned her head and smiled at the king beside her. "The sky is beginning to lighten." And indeed, the black of night was giving way to the first greys of dawn. Lilliandil returned her gaze to the east, her view obstructed by gnarled trees. "It is time to greet the sun," she said with solemn excitement.

The silent question of what this meant was answered as the lady raised her arms before her and began to sing.

At first, Edmund was struck at how the sadness in this song seemed to flow from the memory of the song of the silver robins, a sadness bringing hope. But where the robins' warbles had trailed into silence, here the words of the star, in their unknown, flowing language, rose softly from that silence. And as the lady sang her hopeful welcome, it seemed that the rest of the world was waking to join her.

While the Narnians listened quietly, a few startled gasps escaped as the gnarled, ancients trees in front of them began to sway without wind, their branches bowing and bending. Tempered as they were by three years of Narnian rule, those of Telmarine heritage still marveled at the sight of moving trees. And with every note, these trees moved, their tall trunks straining to hear the music, to greet the sun that lay just beneath the horizon.

A triumphant harmony flowed through the air, the ephemeral voice from before joining Lilliandil's from deep in the earth, from the beginning of time. But it was less an audible voice than a feeling, and Edmund was now sure that this was Ramandu, wherever he might be. At this voice the trees began a slow dance, wavering and weaving, twisting and untwisting, moving in time until those in the clearing could fully view the eastern horizon, a picture flanked by living wood.

The eastern seas were just visible as the sky steadily brightened. A soft orange glow began to creep over the waves, obscured only by the black glow of Dark Island, a stain on the emerging colors. Rose and lavender clouds hovered over the orange-red glow, a light blue sheet slowly rising with them. All the while, the song welcomed the change with a soothing melody like that of a lullaby to a waking child.

Then a gasp rippled through the observers, who were frozen in awe. For a shadow erupted from Dark Island, a shadow of the deepest black carried aloft by green mist, obscuring the light of the new day. "Oh no," whispered Lucy, despair in her voice which matched the distraught murmurs of the other Narnians. Lilliandil did not cease her song, however, only frowned. The song turned to warning, not to those gathered but to the darkness before them, the wall of darkness spreading its corruption across the horizon.

Trouble notes then swelled, transforming into triumph as a pinprick of light pierced through the Dark Island's shadow. No, not just a light. The shadowed wall had been pierced by a bird; not a small, silver robin, but a large, long bird with red-gold feathers which glowed like dawn's light. A long, feathered tail flowed behind it, bringing with it a ray of the morning sun.

Another red-gold bird pierced the darkness, then another, and another. The song in the air swelled to welcome each one, cheering the new victory over the dark curtain of night. Louder the earth sang and then the sky exploded in golden light as a river of birds flocked through the shadow at once, shattering the darkness, tearing down the dark veil. And with that victory, the birds joined in the song, a triumphant harmony that heralded the great sun as it crested the horizon, an orb of saffron and spring blossoms.

As the sun ascended its heavenly throne, the birds twirled through the sky, languidly spreading the bright rays of sunshine. Closer they soared, calling to the island, the island and the stars singing back, beckoning with music. There was laughter in the voices of the singers, a joy at seeing the sun's rising, a yearning to share that joy.

Closer still the red-gold birds came, until Edmund could see their long beaks and feathery, fiery plumage. A giddiness fell over Edmund as he realized that the river of birds was flowing right at them, but there was no fear in the sun's light. The song rose in joy as the birds dove and turned, streaming into the clearing. Edmund's eyesight was blinded by a whirl of red-gold feathers falling this way, rising that way, swirling around him, around the others, carrying with them light and music.

Faster and more joyfully they swirled around him, and Edmund turned with them, and the others near him were laughing as well and whirling where they stood. The singing thundered, higher as the stream of birds flowed upwards through the clearing, up and around the Mountain of Light that now reflected such sunlight as to truly deserve the name. Away and higher the birds flew, circling the mountain, voices rising, the voices of stars laughing their song, louder, higher until, in a burst of joyous silence, the birds vanished in a brilliant sunburst.

A sigh of panged longing came from the Narnians at the silence, the end of the song. None of them were ever able to later describe the experience, not the Narnians in the clearing, nor Eustace on his perch or the Narnians still on the _Dawn Treader, _who had seen and heard as much and differently from their distance as those in the midst of the song. When asked what it was like, they were only ever able to say that it was like Beauty had been trapped in a song and then set free, that it was as if the sunlight had finally allowed them to see the light of the sun for the very first time.

.

No one spoke for a long time after sunrise. Many continued facing east, watching the sun continue its slow ascent. Other meandered around the Mountain of Light, which reflected a deep golden-brown, a warm, inviting color that was calming just to look out. Still others chose to feast on the new meal that had appeared on Aslan's Table – for during the Sunrise, the Table had somehow been cleared of the ever-meal, and set anew with a great feast.

It was nearing mid-morning before their utter peace gradually faded and the Narnians were reminded of their purpose by the spirits of the angry shadows now constantly erupting from Dark Island, beneath the steady sun. There was no arguing amongst the men about what they were to do. After such an experience of Light, the shadows of Dark Island seemed an abomination; it was the general feeling that such a thing must be gotten rid of, and if that meant sailing there to retrieve the final Lord and sword, so be it. Their determination was enhanced by the strength they had gained bythe Table's nourishing food and the sun's bright courage.

As the crew prepared the _Dawn Treader, _Lilliandil took Caspian, Lucy, and Edmund aside. Her face was grace as she gave them final warnings. "Dark Island's greatest weapon is fear. You must guard your heart and trust in Aslan." Her eyes seemed to burn with sad fire. "And you must be willing to sacrifice much." She did not elaborate, but the hearts of the three sovereigns pounded as their thoughts fell upon their greatest fears, and on that which they wished least to sacrifice, even for victory.

"Your majesties?" They turned towards Rynelf, who approached respectfully. "The ship is made ready and the crew awaits."

After nodding their understanding, they turned back to Lilliandil, who raised her hands in a gesture of blessing. "May Aslan protect you, and may a light shine for you in the darkest of your hours." Then she lowered her arms and starlight welled up within her, transforming her body until she was but a light rising into the sky.

The three watched until the star seemed to disappear into the sunlight. Then they walked towards their ship and the destiny that awaited them in the darkness.

* * *

.

If you're interested, the songs I listened to while trying to describe the songs of the silver robins and the red-gold birds were Josh Groban's "Mi Mancherai (Il Postino)" and "Per Te", respectively.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

The _Dawn Treader _prepared to set sail under Lucy's direction so that Edmund and Caspian could arm themselves in the stern cabin – Lucy's armor, a leather set from the Lone Islands, had fewer pieces and would take less time to don than that of the kings. Edmund spared a longing thought for his old armor, which he had worn in the uprising against Miraz. Still, Caspian's second set was of good quality, and the ship's blacksmiths had fitted it to Edmund's form as best they could. The only thing he was missing, now that the Eternals had been returned to Aslan's Table, was a sword.

However, Caspian's usual sword, which he had set aside in favor of Rhindon, was not in the expected spot in the cabin. Edmund frowned. The hooks were there, but sword and scabbard were missing. "Caspian, do you know where your old sword is?" he asked, turning to where Caspian was…settling the sword in question at his side. Edmund's frown turned puzzled. "What are you doing?"

Caspian smirked innocently at him. "Adjusting my sword-belt." Smoothly finishing said adjustment, Caspian picked up Rhindon, still in its scabbard, from the table next to him. "You may want to do the same," he advised, proffering the sword of the High King. Edmund folded his arms across his chest and was about to, yet again, explain patiently to Caspian why he could not use Rhindon, when Caspian drew himself up and gave him a kingly stare. "Take the sword, Edmund," he literally commanded.

Edmund blinked. "Are you…are you trying to _order_ me?" Incredulity wove through his voice.

"I am," Caspian stated firmly, although he had the grace to then look slightly sheepish. "You _did_ say you would follow my lead on the quest."

Edmund opened his mouth to speak, but instead shut it and nodded. He reached out and Caspian handed him Rhindon. "Thank you," Edmund said simply as they hands clasped the sword between the two kings.

Caspian returned the nod and released Rhindon, but then he furrowed his brows in an expression Edmund knew all-too-well. Therefore, he was not surprised when Caspian began saying, "Ed, in case we don't make it through this…"

Now it was Edmund's turn to give an order, interrupting Caspian with a firm, "Stop." Caspian actually seemed to listen for a moment, but when the older king opened his mouth again, Edmund sighed. "Why do my brothers always feel the need to give 'if we don't make it' speeches? We are _not _going to fail in our quest," he stated firmly.

Caspian still looked like he wanted to argue, but he also seemed to remember when Peter had attempted the same thing during his duel with Miraz. The older king deemed it wiser not to push his luck. "Just…be careful, Edmund."

Edmund also heeded the call of wisdom and did not reply that he was always careful. Instead he nodded and simply said, "You too." Then Edmund gave Caspian a sly grin. "After all, I wouldn't want to be the one to tell Lady Lilliandil that you got hurt."

Caspian heroically tried to school his features, but the blush could not be completely hidden. Thankfully for him, Edmund was unable to escalate his teasing as a knock on the door interrupted him. Taking advantage of the distraction, Caspian went to open the door while Edmund slid Rhindon's scabbard onto his swordbelt.

Lucy stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She was already armored, and she quirked a smile when she saw that Caspian and Edmund were only just finishing arming themselves. "And you complain that ladies take too long to get ready."

Edmund rolled his eyes and proceeded to begin checking Lucy's armor. "No, I complain that _Susan _takes forever to get ready. And everyone knew that no one took more time readying their appearance than Sir Blacadaír."

"The main character from the _Adventures of Sir Blacadaír and his Manservant Cirval_?" asked Caspian as he moved to check Lucy's armor from her other side. The young king and queen stared at him until he felt their gazes and looked up. "It's a series of popular comedies in Archenland. The Narnian court was treated to several performances. I particularly enjoyed _Blacadaír and the Prince Who Wished to Be an Actor._"

Lucy squeaked and nearly choked on air. Edmund blinked and then just shook his head. "After the incident with the Archenland acting troupe, the quince pudding, and the squirrel, I really should not be surprised," he muttered and Lucy snorted a laugh at the memory. Caspian joined their amusement, having figured out that the comedies had apparently been based on a thin veil of truth.

Their hearts were a little lighter as the kings and queen checked each other's armor. If Caspian and Lucy spent slightly longer checking Edmund's armor, no one commented on it. All too soon the nervous anticipation returned, and the three sovereigns of Narnia prepared to go lead the crew into the dangers of Dark Island. For a moment they stood in front of the engraving of Aslan, silently praying for his guidance and aid. Then they left the cabin together, to face what was to come.

000000000000

As the ship drew nearer to the encompassing shadows of Dark Island, the plan of attack was spread among the crew. Their focus would be to find Lord Rhoop and the Eternal he carried. No doubt the power of the island would try to keep the _Dawn Treader_ from leaving with either, so if they ended up ensnared and could not follow the main plan of simply sailing back to Ramandu's Island, they would entrust the sword to Eustace to fly back to Aslan's Table. Not knowing what they would face once enveloped by the darkness, there were few other details that could be added.

The ship slowed as they neared the very outskirts of the shadowed veil surrounding their destination. Fear seemed to radiate from the black clouds, spreading through all on board the _Dawn Treader_. As trepidation rose, Caspian ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck in order to address the crew: "My good Narnians. In our journey, we have faced many dangers, endured hard struggles, suffered loss. Whatever we face in the darkness, we will hold fast to our courage! Do not give into fear, my friends, for light has always triumphed over darkness." He paused as all remembered the sunrise. "No matter the danger, we shall prevail! For Narnia! And for Aslan!"

"For Aslan!" the crew cheered, the name of the Lion bolstering their spirits. "For Aslan!"

"For Aslan," murmured Edmund as they moved ever closer to the darkness.

0000000000

There was silence throughout the ship as the _Dawn Treader _slipped past the first cloud into a fog of black. Little light slipped in with them, despite time nearing late morning. The lamps were lit, but still darkness shrouded the ship, making their path exponentially dangerous. Of land there was no sign save for a few low rocks rising above the water, eerily illuminated by a sheen of poison-green mist.

Captain Drinian was at the helm, steering a shallow course, not directly towards the heart of the island. He preferred to spiral around the possible land mass, only tangentially drawing nearer as he did so. Not even Lilliandil could tell them where Lord Rhoop would be on the island, and the crew preferred to first explore asea before attempting to land and search the interior. However, this risked running the _Dawn Treader _aground on offshore rocks or dunes. This meant that the crew was greatly relying on the captain's heightened instincts and the lookouts' terse calls as they pinpointed and called up what they could see in the darkness.

Those not involved in steering and rowing kept on high alert, ready to be attacked, ready to rush repairs, pull sails, whatever was needed. But until the need arose, they had to wait, and waiting in the tense darkness was nearly unbearable. The silence grew oppressive, and the air grew colder. Much colder, in fact. It was not long before the dim glow of the lanterns reflected off each puff of breath by the crew.

Edmund had not felt cold like this since he had fallen into the icy waters of the Atlantic. Quickly banishing those memories with a shake of his head, Edmund looked out into the darkness. From his position on the quarterdeck, he could vaguely make out the lumps of rock, shimmering with a glaze of snow, to their starboard side. And to port…Edmund squinted at the small shapes. His ears caught the drone of the lookouts' reports at the same moment that he realized what the shapes were and the danger they represented.

He darted towards the helm, nearly bowling over Lucy in his hast. "Captain! Steer clear of the port ice! Those are icebergs, they're much, _much _larger beneath the surface, and can tear through the ship like butter." Drinian, thankfully followed the king's instruction instantly, and corrected the course so that they kept a more even space between the rocks and the ice.

Edmund breathed a sigh of relief. He had forgotten that the sailors of this world had no knowledge of icebergs and other northerly dangers. Fear of the autonomous kingdom of the Selkies prevented even the sailors of the Seven Islands from gaining knowledge of icy northern waters. Not even the Ettins ever attempted to communicate with the Selkies, a fierce people who lived on the north-east coast and hunted the Northern Seas, and who despised all contact with those not of their race. Unfortunately, the paucity of knowledge about arctic seas meant even the great sailors and navigators of Narnia's Golden Age would consider small flats of floating ice less of a danger than jagged rocks.

Now it was a tense battle of balancing both, keeping far enough from the rocks and avoiding the hidden dangers of the icebergs. The crew naturally looked more askance at the rocks, unaware as they were of the terrible fate the ice could bestow. The stories the _Pevensey Bay _crew had tried to scare Edmund with on his first trans-Atlantic journey had stayed with him, and so he watched both dangers with equal apprehensiveness.

The longer they sailed, the better everyone's eyes adjusted to the dark and the more they began to see of the black line of the island's coast. However, they could not leave the depths surrounding Dark Island; the barriers of rocks offshore were too dangerous for longboats. As they followed the coast – they must be rounding the eastern side by now – the icebergs lessoned, but the chill remained. The sheen of green mist, however, was steadily thickening into a fog, blinding them as much as the darkness. Shades of venomous green snaked around the men on deck, permeating the boards and slithering around those who slowly propelled the ship with oars. The pool of fog served to separate the men, and one woman, from each other, leaving them all nearly blind and vulnerably alone.

Even beyond the danger of not being able to see enough to steer the ship – though the lookouts doggedly tried – the crew felt a strange fear rising up within them. Edmund nearly jumped out of his skin when the ominous silence was broken by a frightfully familiar, "What you are, we once were…" He whirled around, but there was nothing behind him except more fog.

"What we are, you will become." Edmund jerked to his right, heart pounding, but he could see nothing. The whispers haunted his perceptions, as in the background he heard screams. Edmund froze. They were the screams of his men, distraught, in trouble, in pain. He shouted and stretched out his hands, trying to find them, to help, but he remained blind and the men just kept screaming, _dying_. The sounds, the whispers surrounded Edmund, threatening to drown him, driving him towards sheer panic. He could not escape, could not get away, could not run.

A pair of hands suddenly clasped themselves against Edmund's ears and he tried to jerk away, but they held him all the more tightly. It was then that Edmund realized that the whispers, the shouts, were muffled and distorted. Without the immediacy, the panic threatening to overtake Edmund was lessened, and he was able to think, to remember. He was no longer on that cursed island and Aslan had overcome the figures of the dead.

No longer blinded by panic, but still rather blind in sight, Edmund comprehended that the voices he had been hearing had been false, likely caused by the green mist. He could kick himself for forgetting the wall of green mist they had encountered after leaving Coriakin's Island. This seemed to be more of the same evil device, causing them to hear the sounds of their greatest fears and nightmares.

Carefully replacing the hands over his ears with his own, Edmund turned and gave Lucy – for that is who it had been – a grateful, if rueful, smile. She nodded in return and Edmund could see she had stuffed her ears with small bits of fabric. He gratefully took some similar pieces from her and stuffed his own ears, which worked to keep the terrible sounds muffled and ignorable. Then the two quickly moved on, jolting the terrified and paralyzed men from their waking nightmares and spreading the 'cure' throughout the ship.

The cure was improved by the work of a rather unexpected source. When the fog had rolled in, Reepicheep, from his perch atop Eustace's head, had realized the danger and quickly pulled the dragon's ears back so that they were plastered against his head. This had disgruntled Eustace, but better a discontent dragon than one entangled by dark dreams. As a result of this action, the dragon and the Mouse were collected enough to try and figure out a plan to fight the seemingly unbeatable green mist. After all, how does one fight against fog? The power of Dark Island did not choose her attacks without thought.

However, it would be beyond any power in this particular world to fully understand the knowledge learned in another world. Therefore, it could not have been predicted that Eustace would relate the strange mist, green as it was, to the rolling fogs of England, or that he would remember the plethora of people who would casually remark how "the sun's burned away the morning fog, it seems". Therefore, while if given time Reepicheep would probably have come up with a better, safer plan, Eustace took unusual initiative and began burning the fog the only way he knew how.

Thankfully for all onboard, Eustace made sure to burn _around _the ship instead of at it. While not quite the most accurate weapon, the fire began working slowly. The mist seemed to recoil from the heat and light, even considering that dragonfire was of the earth instead of the sun's heavenly flames. The crew sent up a cheer as the mist finally retreated, leaving them in simple, oppressive darkness (and able to take out the frankly uncomfortable earplugs, it must be said). Edmund, however, held his own council on the matter of the fog's retreat – that the mist had been recalled to its master, who had decided to fight instead with a weapon not so easily dispatched by a dragon.

.

For the moment at least, no such new weapon appeared and the Dawn Treader sailed on. According to the compasses, they were beginning to round the southern coast of the island. The mood on the _Dawn Treader _was one of weary tension. The effects of the green mist lingered beyond its departure, tugging downward the spirits of the crew. Edmund felt the dreary pull as well, building up within him, threatening to overtake the peace he had felt since the ever-meal and the sunrise. They needed to do something soon.

It was not perhaps as soon as could have been hoped, but it was thankfully not long before an improvement of their quest came. For one thing, the mist had almost completely cleared away, improving visibility. For another, the rocks seemed to be lessoning, meaning that the _Dawn Treader_ could move slightly closer to shore. It would likely not be long before they could – and must – lower the longboats and continue the search inland.

Edmund was dreading this. Small as the island was, they would probably only need a small party. Still, considering what they had faced so far, on the edges of Dark Island, Edmund could only apprehend what horrors they would find on the island itself. He had the gut-twisting, foreboding feeling that it would be worse than what he had experience in the black woods of the dead island.

The wind picked up, pushing against the ship. Drinian fought to keep her steady as the wind howled and tried to push them away from the island. Those on deck were forced to grab hold of railing and ropes to keep from tumbling across the ship. The _Dawn Treader _rocked from side to side with the waves, but she held steady, and Drinian kept her determinedly on course.

It was a fell wind that attacked, chilling to the bones, yet it also brought the first sign of hope. A voice hung on the air, weary and harsh and old, but defiant. Words were nearly impossible to make out, but it was a human voice. A real voice, as well, not like the deep resonance of the green mist's deception. On Caspian's orders, the lights in the lamps were strengthened, and the lookouts peered far into the darkness to find the voice's source.

However, it was the superior night vision of a certain Mouse atop of a dragon's head that was first able to pierce the darkness. "There is a man on one of the rocky islets!" he shouted to those still on the ship. "He looks ill-kept, and has but a fire, and little else, for warmth."

"Lead us as close as possible," Caspian ordered Reepicheep, and then ordered the crew to prepare a longboat. Perhaps they would not have to go far to find Lord Rhoop after all.

At Reepicheep's direction they sailed near enough that they could make out a figure standing on an islet, holding a sword pointed to the ground. The wind still blew and waves crashed dangerously on the rocks, rocks that were now forming an impenetrable barrier between the _Dawn Treader _and the man. Edmund grimaced as Lucy voiced what they were all thinking: "A longboat would splinter before we even got close." So how, then, to rescue the man they believed to be Lord Rhoop?

The flapping of leathery wings caught Edmund's ear and an idea came to him. "Eustace!" he shouted to get his cousin's attention. Eustace pulled up near the ship. "We need to get him to the ship. Can you…?" Before Edmund could finish his request, Eustace was off like a shot. Edmund winced as a terrified yell carried on the wind from the man who had been unexpectedly seized by a dragon. Within moments, Eustace had dropped the man on the deck, with suspiciously more gentleness than he had used with Edmund. Edmund rubbed his forehead with one hand and sighed. "I was _going _to suggest you take _me _to _him_ to explain things first, so as not to scare him to death," the young king muttered, though Eustace did not hear him.

As it was, Lord Rhoop had first been frozen in fear and shock, which quickly turned into fear and suspicion. The man – ragged, worn, and half-starved as he was – quickly fell into a defensive position, sword in hand. He snarled at the sailors who tried to approach him. "I will not fall to this new trickery!" he shouted, voice half-crazed.

"It is no trick," Caspian calmly countered. "We are a royal ship of Narnia…"

"Mist-lies! Servants of the dark power!" Few could blame the poor man for believing them mere figments of his seven-year torment, but the sword he waved was still a danger to the crew that sought to help him.

Edmund began inching towards Lord Rhoop, hoping to find an opening to disarm him, but it was an unneeded move. Caspian, ignoring the danger, stepped closer to Rhoop and said, softly but loud enough to be heard: "The Lady Lilliandil told me to remind you of Carulan."

The crazed look in Rhoop's eyes sharpened to coherency at Caspian's words. "Carulan," he whispered reverently, and lowered his sword. Then his eyes finally focused on Caspian's face. "I know you."

Caspian's mien was regal as he answered, "I am King Caspian X of Narnia, son of Caspian IX." And then, more gently: "You have fulfilled your duty, Lord Rhoop. It is time to finish this and go home."

With that, Lord Rhoop collapsed to his knees, hands releasing the last Eternal with a clatter. "My lord," he declared in a whispered moan, as the mantle of duty that held him captive for so long was removed.

Lucy was quick to his side, Caspian near her. "Come, my lord," she said. "you may rest in the king's cabin."

Caspian nodded and helped Lucy raise Lord Rhoop to his feet, before having his place taken by another sailor. "Rest, now, my good man. We will take care of what is needed." Rhoop muttered grateful nonsense as Lucy and the sailor helped him go below deck.

Edmund stood next to Caspian as the other king picked up the fallen Eternal. "What's Carulan?" Edmund asked quietly as Drinian ordered the ship back to Ramandu's Island.

Caspian looked to where Lord Rhoop had disappeared below deck. "Last night, after most of you fell asleep, I spoke with Lily…with Lady Lilliandil." There was a slight blush that Edmund magnanimously ignored. "She told me that when Lord Rhoop agreed to go to Dark Island, that her father believed it best to have some way so that Rhoop could tell a real rescue from a trick of Dark Island. To do this, Rhoop agreed to let Ramandu take his most precious memories so that Dark Island, for one, could not use them against him. For another, they would return when someone came to rescue him and would mention the name 'Carulan'."

Edmund thought this sounded perfectly reasonable and could understand why Caspian had not mentioned this before: the fewer people who knew, the less likely that Dark Island would pick it out of someone's mind. However, his curiosity needed to be satiated on one thing: "Who is Carulan to Lord Rhoop?"

"A Telmarine lady, who had been Lord Rhoop's fiancée before he had to flee my uncle. She had a chronic illness and Rhoop did not wish to risk taking her from her doctors; he left her a note that freed her of any obligations and left." Then, surprisingly, Caspian's mouth quirked into a smile. "Do you remember the rumors of rebellion against Miraz in the west?"

Edmund was a little confused at the non sequitur, but was able to hide the confusion as they took their places near Drinian at the helm. "I vaguely remember something about skirmishes west of the Lantern Waste, but I don't think any of our own scouts made it that far to see if there was truth to the rumors."

Caspian's smile widened to a mischievous grin. "They were true. Apparently Lady Carulan was none too pleased that Miraz had indefinitely delayed her wedding. She dragged her doctors west and managed to bully a troop of Calormene deserters into harrying trade routes." Then he frowned. "I'm rather hoping she'll stop doing it if we return Lord Rhoop to her safely."

"Caspian?" Edmund said after a moment.

"Yes?"

"I would recommend you _never _let Lady Carulan and Captain-General Turion meet."

"That…is probably very wise advice."

00000000000

There was precious little time to contemplate the next step in their quest, now that Rhoop and his sword had been retrieved. It was not that any of them expected the power of Dark Island to allow them to leave without a fight. Most of the crew just wished that they had been allowed more than five minutes to revel in having found the last lord and sword before encountering yet another obstacle in their path.

Edmund just wished the obstacle had taken another form. _Any _other form.

It did not help that there had been no warning. That is, the lookout started to mention movement in the water, but he had been rudely interrupted by an explosion in the waves on the port side, which rocked the ship. For a moment, Edmund's heart jumped, imagining that they had been hit by an impossible torpedo. Then he decided he rather wished it _had _been a torpedo, as a giant, scaly head burst out of the sea, followed by a long neck – no, a long body. A long, giant, snake-like body to go with the giant snake-like head with its rows of massive teeth. Then Edmund was just glad his body had completely frozen, otherwise he would have been cowering in the first sheltered nook he could find.

Of course, it _had_ to be a sea serpent.

.

There was a terrible moment where crew and serpent stared at each other, the men in shock and the serpent in hungry anticipation. The serpent's sickly-yellow eyes gleamed. Its mistress had given it orders, which it was anxious to carry out: destroy the ship and all in it. The presence of the terrible sword might prevent the power of Dark Island from interfering directly – and besides, she had another plan to actualize. Her favorite pet, however, was not bound, and could attack at will, lent strength by its proximity to Dark Island. Now, it could destroy. Now it could feed.

Onboard the _Dawn Treader_, the crew trembled at the sight of the creature towering over them. Stories were pale imitations of the real thing, and each man could see his death in the sea serpent's gaze. Even the usually unflappable Captain Drinian had been taken by fear, his barked orders falling silent. Cream the cat took one look at the serpent, hissed, and bolted below deck. Caspian stared wide-eyed, suddenly wishing his training had covered defeating giant, fanged sea-snakes.

Edmund tried desperately not to hyperventilate. Passing out from lack of air was _not _an option, no matter how inviting that option may be. Drawing his sword might be relatively more useful, but all Edmund could handle at the moment was keeping his legs perpendicular to the deck .

Thankfully, not everyone was stricken insensible by fear. As a creature already living in a world where many animals towered menacingly above him, Reepicheep was undeterred by the sight of the unusually large serpent. From his perch, the fearless Mouse urged Eustace forward, shouting: "No fear, my boy! You are the mightiest of the scaled Creatures! Show this interloper its place!"

Thus encouraged – and slightly more frightened of letting down his cousins than he was of the sea serpent – Eustace flew at the creature, scratching at its face with his claws. Reepicheep then left from his mount onto the back of the sea serpent, attacking with all his might. His tiny sword could do little more damage that a pin, but even pinpricks are painful. The serpent roared and reared, snapping its mighty jaws at Eustace, while rippling its back to fling Reepicheep towards the ship.

The Mouse was fortunate enough to grab hold of a rope and lower himself to the deck. Eustace, on the other hand, was not so lucky and the sea serpent's teeth dug into his shoulder. His scales mitigated the damage, and caused the serpent to lose its hold, but it was still painful for the boy-turned-dragon. In fact, Eustace was quite sure he did _not_ want to do this anymore, and there was no annoying Mouse shouting in his ear to make him face the monster.

Unfortunately, the sea serpent did not care that Eustace was ready to run away. It just knew it had to get rid of the guardian dragon in order to reach its ultimate prey. So the sea serpent refused to let up, snapping and throwing its great head at Eustace, who could barely fly fast enough to miss being bitten in two, let alone escape.

Luckily for him, the crew of the _Dawn Treader_ had shaken off their stupor. Men scurried to oars and sails, crossbowmen took up their bows, and Captain Drinian steered grimly and steadily. "Archers!" shouted Caspian, "Release when you have a clear shot! Aim for the head!" The crossbowmen fell to their training and let fly their bolts. None seemed to do much damage, but they certainly distracted the creature away from Eustace. Roaring in pained annoyance, the sea serpent turned from the dragon to the dragon-prowed ship. It shot through the water like a dolphin; within moments it had reached the starboard side of the _Dawn Treader._

First diving deep, the sea serpent then sprang out of the water. Men leapt out of the way, and many, including Edmund, barely avoided being crushed as the sea serpent's body crashed onto the deck. However, the body did not stay there. Instead, the creature slithered forward. Then, as the sea serpent's head rose again on the starboard side and, as Edmund was forced to roll into the mast to avoid it, the situation became frightfully apparent. The sea serpent was wrapping itself around the ship, crushing her within its powerful coils. Unless the _Dawn Treader's _crew could free her from the grasp of the sea serpent, the ship would be crushed, and her crew crushed or drowned with her.

Glancing among the scattered crew, Edmund was relieved to spot Caspian stumbling to his feet. Lucy, too, had made her way from below deck – and she was now armed not only with her sword, but with Susan's bow and arrows. Edmund gave her a grim nod as she moved to help steady Caspian on the still-rolling ship. They should have remembered the bow before; while not as proficient as Susan, Lucy was still an expert archer. Edmund was glad she had thought to arm herself thus.

There was little time for ruminating on it, however, as the sea serpent continued to squeeze its prey. Wood groaned and broke beneath its hold. Men shouted, a panic beginning to overtake them. Posts were abandoned, and some of the crew seemed to be contemplating jumping overboard, taking their chances in the sea.

Situations like these are where a leader is needed. And a leader rose up to meet the challenge. "Hold fast! Hold your ground!" barked Caspian, his tone furious and his dark eyes blazing. "Find a weak spot in its hide!" Given an order, given a task, the crew followed the command and, led by Reepicheep, used daggers, swords, and arrows to work at the armored skin.

While the crew worked at the body, Edmund had an idea. Unfortunately, Caspian and Lucy were not aware of this idea, busy as they were trying to slice past the sea serpent's scales. As Edmund moved to implement the plan, Edmund almost wished they _did _notice and put a stop to what was probably one of his more reckless ideas yet. Edmund's heart pounded as if it wanted to escape his chest, and his hand were slick with salt water and sweat as he tightly gripped Rhindon's hilt. He nearly froze when he heard the small explosion off starboard that indicated that the sea serpent was preparing for another pass.

The head emerged and with the fleeting thought, _'I am insane', _ringing through his head, Edmund leapt _at _its head instead of away from it. Raising Rhindon, Edmund shouted and stabbed at the monster's face. The sword barely missed the creature's eye, but scrapped hard and deep against the upper side of its face. The injury leaked black blood, but was nowhere near a fatal wound. However, the pain caused the sea serpent to halt, leaving its body motionless and exposed for the crew, who could now aim more clearly. Dozens, hundreds of small wounds all along its body severely disrupted the sea serpent's movements. In pain, and angry, the serpent began unwinding itself, loosening its hold so that the ship was no longer in danger of breaking apart.

Edmund, in the course of attacking the serpent head on, had unfortunately placed himself in the position where the creature's head slammed into him as it reacted to the sword's blow. His vision blackened with spots at the impact, and then Edmund was thrown to the side, bowling into three sailors who were trying to control the sails in the midst of sea serpent destruction and heightening wind. Thanking them as they helped him to his feet, Edmund stumbled across the rolling deck to where Caspian and Lucy were ordering the men to back off from the sea serpent's body – it had loosened but they did not want to risk causing the creature to tighten its hold. Edmund was grateful that they kept their displeasure at his actions confined to disapproving glares.

The wind was picking up further, and Edmund suspected that not all the water falling on the deck was from the disturbed ocean. Combining the weather with being caught in the coils of a giant sea serpent, the _Dawn Treader _was not in a good position to try and make her way back to Ramandu's Island and Aslan's Table. Clearly Edmund was not the only one thinking this, since as soon as he reached the side of his siblings, Caspian had already made up his mind to alter their plan. "We need to implement plan number two," Caspian shouted to be heard over the shrieks of the serpents, the shouts of the men, and the groaning of the ship.

Edmund nodded already searching the dark skies for… "Eustace!" he shouted at the dragon, who was tentatively hanging back as far as he could from ship and serpent alike. Edmund was, in fact, impressed that Eustace was still anywhere in the vicinity of the sea serpent, but apparently Reepicheep's encouraging exhortations had been driven home thoroughly enough that Eustace had decided to remain nearby.

Eustace seemed to notice his call, but still hung back, wary of the thrashing monster that held the _Dawn Treader _in its grasp. Edmund was about to yell again, but was interrupted when the serpent shrieked loudly and struck straight at the kings and queen. Caspian, Lucy, and Edmund dove aside in time, as the archers attacked with their bows in order to drive the creature off. It reared its head back again, but hissed menacingly at them. '_No,'_ Edmund realized when the sea serpent struck again, its target clearer. '_It's hissing at me.' _As Edmund rolled out of the way, just in time, his breath still coming too quickly for comfort, he fought the increasing desire to groan. Apparently, the sea serpent was smarter than he thought; it knew precisely who was responsible for its greatest wound.

Lucy noticed this as well, screaming his name as she rapidly drew arrow on bow and let loose before the sea serpent could attack a third time. The arrow distracted the monster long enough for Edmund to scramble to his feet and find a better grasp on Rhindon. Although he kept his gaze focused on the enemy, Edmund turned his head slightly when Caspian called out to him, "Ed! Can you…?"

Edmund nodded sharply before Caspian could finish. "Plan two; I'll keep it busy!" And then he took off, running toward the bow of the ship. The sea serpent followed his movements, leaving Caspian free to dash up to the quarterdeck with the seventh Eternal.

.

Lucy did not like this turn of events at all, and her ire grew at Caspian. Using her brother as bait was _not _making sure Edmund stayed out of danger, as they had agreed. However, she was not given time to protest. Instead, she could only direct the mid-battle repairs, issuing orders for the carpenters to stay below the damaged deck and repair the most dangerous tears in the ship: those below water line. As she did this, and as she shouted at the crossbowmen to line up and keep focused on the target, she also kept an eye on her brother as he dashed and dodged across the deck, barely escaping the furious strikes of the sea serpent.

Then, in the instant of a particularly hard strike that sent the serpent's head partially through the deck, and sent splinters flying at Edmund, Lucy heard the sound of wings behind her. She turned and saw Eustace diving quickly towards Caspian, snatching the sword from the king's raised hands. Then the dragon took off, flying as fast as he could towards the west and escape from Dark Island.

There was a shriek not wholly belonging to the sea serpent, whose head swiveled as it somehow realized that the Eternal had left the ship. Again the sea serpent screamed its displeasure, and it turned from the ship, its entrapping coils loosening and beginning to slither away. "Release!" shouted Lucy and she loosed her own arrow along with the bolts of her fellow archers. The weapons struck true, still not giving the desired damage, but causing enough pain to inflame the sea serpent's animal instincts.

Forgetting Eustace, the serpent returned its attention to the _Dawn Treader._ Its tail lashed unexpectedly under the ship and, by the jarring turn of the deck, it had damaged the rudder. Lucy, from where she had stumbled to her knees, saw Drinian struggle with the wheel, his strength not enough to hold her steady. Caspian stumbled over and took the other side of the wheel, king and captain working together to keep the ship from toppling.

The sea serpent had been stirred into a frenzy, both by the most recent arrow volley and by anger at letting Eustace escape with the Eternal. The Dark Island, or the Power within, matched frenzy with fury. Dark clouds rumbled with thunder, and shadowed, sickly-green lightning flashing through the sky. Sheets of rain, with bits of hail, pelted onto the hapless crew and ship. Over the thunder, the sea serpent screamed and mindlessly attacked the _Dawn Treader's _prow, tearing at the dragon-shape, reducing the proud figure to splinters.

Terrible as it was, with the pounding rain and rolling deck, the frenzy of the sea serpent at least gave them room to breathe. And, Lucy could see as she lurched her way towards the mast, some of them needed that breath desperately. Leaning slightly on one hand against the mast, Edmund's chest was heaving and his skin paler than it should be, even in the pallid light of the few remaining lanterns. As Lucy drew nearer, tripping over debris, Edmund gave her a wan smile. She was struck by how tired his face looked, a weariness that did not just come from the exertion of dodging the sea serpent. She had seen a hint of it before, after Edmund had spoken with Aslan, after he had told her of his last meeting with Peter. Lucy's throat constricted at the sight, but before she could swallow, try to figure out what that weariness was, Caspian was next to her.

Caspian had given the wheel over to Tavros - who had more strength to help hold the wheel steady – and had made his way quickly to them, ideas burning through his mind. Lucy dimly registered her non-surprise when Edmund ignored his exhaustion and dove straight into figuring out their next, desperate strategy. "Its head is most vulnerable, but it moves too fast to get in a good hit." Edmund yelled over the noise. "We have to find a way to keep it still."

Caspian nodded. "The harpoons! If we can lure it straight and hit it on both sides of its neck, we may be able to pull it into a standstill and get at its head!"

Lucy knew before he spoke that Edmund would say: "Go! I'll lure it up and take care of it!" After all, it made logical sense, the sea serpent seemed to have a vendetta against Edmund and would likely fall for the bait. But Lucy was not in a logical frame of mind at the moment, not when the weariness on Edmund's face had turned to determination and not a little resignation. Caspian had not seen it, she was sure, for he had already turned away to issue orders to ready harpoons.

Ire turned to cold desperation when Edmund began turning away from her. "No!" she shrieked, and almost without thinking she grabbed her brother's left arm. Her hand slipped on his rain-soaked vambrace, but she still held him firmly, the knots of the woolen rope wrapped around his wrist digging into the palm of her hand. With the deck still hurling violently, the unexpected pull of his arm nearly threw Edmund backward.

He barely kept his feet enough to turn and look at her. His eyes were a study in confusion, as he tried to tug his arm away from her iron grip. "Lucy, what are you doing? Let…"

"No!" she cried again. "Edmund, don't do this!" Don't charge head-long into danger. Don't use yourself as bait. Don't face the monster alone.

Edmund looked at her, his face grim. "I have to, Lu."

Lucy let out a sob. "No, no you don't! Let someone else take your place." If she did not know he could too-easily overpower her, she would not hesitate to do so herself.

But Edmund just shook his head. "There was never anyone else who could. It's my choice," he said quietly, voice barely heard over the noise around them.

He pulled away, but Lucy kept her grip on his arm. "No!" she protested again, but the plea had weakened, was nearly a whimper.

Without warning, Edmund pulled her into an awkward embrace with his right arm. His breath was cold on her ear as he spoke: "Let go, Lucy. Let me go."

Time seemed to freeze as Lucy trembled at his words, words echoing those of Aslan. Her heart was screaming, somehow knowing that he did not just mean for her to let go of his arm. She could not, she _would _not, how _could_ she? She remembered the look on his face, though, when he had told her why he had decided to fight in the war, the fiery determination when he had told her that she was not responsible for his choices. She remembered Aslan's voice, telling her to give Edmund to him, to trust in the Lion and not in herself. Taking a deep breath, Lucy thought she could even smell the spicy scent of Aslan's fur on the freezing air. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, she lifted each finger from their grasp on Edmund's arm.

And then, Lucy put her faith in Aslan and let her brother go.

000000000000

Feeling Lucy's grip slacken, Edmund smiled sadly and pressed a kiss on her rain-soaked hair. Neither spoke as Edmund stepped away, turned, and ran towards the rope ladder. Catching hold of it, Edmund hoisted himself upwards. His hands were slick with rain, stiff from cold, but he kept going. The _Dawn Treader _tipped to the side, causing Edmund to nearly fly off the ladder, barely able to keep his hold with his left hand. Concentrating on trying to regain his footing, Edmund only superficially noted that the sea serpent had apparently regained some of its sense and was moving from the bow to the port side of the ship. Edmund's stomach rolled, and not just from the movement of the ship. No matter what he had told Lucy, he really, _really _wished someone else could be bait. There just had not been time, and this sea serpent had apparently decided to target Edmund above anyone else. So Edmund got to be bait and…

Jerking to the side, Edmund swore under his breath as he once again barely missed being the sea serpent's snack. Edmund was nearly to the crow's nest, but his chances of making it there were slim and he was fairly helpless as he was climbing. Arms and legs burning with effort, Edmund heard shouting beneath him. Suddenly, the contorted, ugly face of the sea serpent was almost right next to Edmund's, and he could feel hot, fetid breath and see yellowed, sharp teeth and he could not get away. And then Edmund heard more shouts and thuds somewhere beneath him, and the serpent's head jerked backwards, roaring in pain and agitation. Gasping for breath, Edmund used the distraction to pull himself up into the crow's nest.

Edmund grabbed the rail and hauled himself to his feet, taking in the situation as he did so. A few yards from the ship, the sea serpent was struggling to disentangle itself from three harpoons that were stuck into its body. Beneath, on deck, sailors struggled to hold on to the ropes, while others tried to get into position to throw more harpoons. With the thrashing of the serpent and the rolling of the ship, too many of the harpoons were missing their targets.

Hearing a cracking sound behind him, Edmund turned to see the tail of the sea serpent writhing in the air. Edmund grimaced. _'Time to become snake-bait'_, he thought, gripping Rhindon tightly. The tail moved more rhythmically than the head and so Edmund was able to time his strike precisely, hitting the edge of the tail as it flew through the air near the crow's nest.

The sea serpent shrieked, its head turning, eyes focusing on the crow's nest and on Edmund. However, in its startled pain at the blow, the serpent had slowed its movement. It was not a lot, but enough for several more of the thick, heavy harpoons to pierce the monster's body, securing the Narnians' hold. The eyes of the sea serpent were lit with an angry, green fire as it looked between deck and crow's nest, trying to decide which to attack first.

Cursing himself for a fool, Edmund kept his sword in his left hand, and with his right he picked up a large splinter of wood that had been broken off the mast sometime during the beginning of the serpent's attack. Making sure he had a solid grip, Edmund raised his arm and threw the shard at the sea serpent's head, hitting its eye spot on. Apparently that decided the matter for the serpent and it took the bait, shrieking as it lunged at Edmund.

Not having Rhindon at the ready, Edmund dodged the strike with enough force that he nearly toppled over the rail. Instead, he had to dodge again, and dove for cover behind the mast. Edmund grit his teeth. The ropes were not taut enough, not pulling enough to either side in order to stymie the serpent. _'Come on, Caspian, a little help here would be nice,'_ he thought as the sea serpent struck again, fast as lightning. Edmund switched Rhindon back to his right hand, noticing as he did that the black, knotted rope was loose around his left wrist. _'Must have happened when Lucy grabbed me,' _he idly mused, but then he had to roll out of the way of a row of sharp teeth and his thoughts changed back to silently pleading with Caspian to get the harpoon ropes in order, so Edmund could actually fight back. _'Or better yet, Eustace can place that bloody sword on Aslan's Table._'

Then his thoughts were interrupted completely when the sea serpent attacked once more, and this time Edmund was not quite fast enough.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

As Eustace flew away from the _Dawn Treader_, sword in claws, he suddenly got the feeling that the sea serpent might not be the only obstacle in his way. Darkness crowded around him, and thunder began rolling through the clouds. The air grew heavy, and Eustace's wings struggled to move against it. Eustace groaned as the rain started, then hail began pelting against him. He had to keep his eyelids almost completely lowered, to guard his otherwise unprotected eyes against the sharp ice.

Wind whirled and Eustace was dragged from side to side, pulled down towards the water. With all his strength he forced his wings to pull up, to keep going straight. He could really only hope he was going in the right direction now. The wind was doing its best to keep him from breaking through the shadows of Dark Island, but Eustace was determined to get away. Not even just for himself, strange as that was.

No, Eustace could not get out of his head the memory of his cousins and the others on the _Dawn Treader_ deliberately goading the sea serpent to attack them. And they had done it to protect _Eustace._ The boy-turned-dragon knew what the plan had been – Lucy had told him – and he knew that the _Dawn Treader _could have tried to slip away with the sword while Eustace had been fighting the serpent. Instead, they had saved _him._

And now the sea serpent was probably dragging them all to the bottom of the sea.

Eustace shook his head, to rid himself both of that thought and of the icy water that was pooling in the ridges of his face. No, he refused to believe that they were drowned in the sea; Eustace was sure Edmund or Caspian, or even Lucy, would think up some insane plan to free the ship and they would be sailing to Ramandu's Island right behind him. And even if they were stuck in that terrible darkness, Eustace would get the sword to Aslan's Table and then, as Eustace understood it, _something_ would happen and the Dark Island would disappear, freeing them that way.

If only he could get away from this blasted darkness… The change from near total blackness to light was so instantaneous that Eustace nearly fell into the sea. Confused, he straightened out. He was still in the dark clouds of Dark Island, though they seemed to be clearing some. But the light that had startled him was not sun or lightning. Instead, there were great flashes of light unlike any other, battling in the air for supremacy: one the same sickly green as the Island's mist, the other a deeper, brighter blue than the star they had followed to Ramandu's Island.

Speaking of which, Eustace could see that blue as well. It was dimmer than the blue light now racing through the sky above, clashing with the green, but it was the light of the blue star, peeking through the dark clouds. The green and dark blue lights continued their battle overhead, and great power seemed to radiate from them, one burning cold, the other freezing hot, and both overwhelming Eustace's sense. Desperate to get away, Eustace threw his lot in with what he knew and flew towards the dimmer blue light, hoping it was their guiding star.

.

The darkness followed, but was less heavy, and the rain had slowed to a freezing drizzle, much like a winter rain back in England. Eustace flew low, trying to keep away from the great lights, his wings straining. Then he saw it: the great cliffs of Ramandu's Island, rising before him, peeking through grey fog and low rainclouds. With his destination clear, the light of the blue star was subsumed by the deep blue light, joining the battle.

Eustace flew upwards, sword still tightly clenched in his claws despite the slick rain. There he saw the forest on top of the cliffs, and the big mountain, the Table was supposed to be in the forest, at the foot of the mountain. Eustace frowned. Where was the clearing? He had seen it this morning, the sunrise showing what had been hidden to him when they had landed the previous night. Eustace flew around the Mountain, but the trees remained tightly together, branches entwined, a barrier hiding Aslan's Table against…him? Then the green light attacked past the dark blue, tearing at the trees, and the plant barely withstood the quick assault before the blue light pulled the green one away and the battle between them continued.

Now Eustace, not having been with the rest of the landing party, did not quite understand about stars and powers, attacks and defenses. He could, however, understand, from what he was seeing, that the blue lights were defending the island and, apparently, the island was protecting Aslan's Table as well. Unfortunately, the protection seemed to be against _everything_, which included Eustace. He could not fly through the trees. He could not tear away the trees without dropping the sword, which he knew better than to do. And even if he got his fire to burn in this rain, Eustace rather thought it would be bad idea to burn down this island's forest.

That did not mean that he would not smolder puffs of smoke out of frustration. No matter how hard he tried to batter the trees, even clumsily attempting to use the sword, he could not get through. He doubted, even if he could precisely locate where exactly the Table was, that he would be able to drop the sword through. Growling, Eustace flew down to the edge of the island, searching for an opening between the trees, but they were too close together. He would not be able to get through, not with his bulky, dragon body. Eustace's stomach burned, from frustration not his dragonfire. With a growl that was more of a howl, Eustace drew his wings and landed hard on the ledge he had slept on the night before.

It was a small ledge, beneath the top of the great cliffs of Ramandu's Island. Eustace curled up tightly around the sword and closed his eyes, trying to block out the desperate battle of the great lights, the black, growing shadows of Dark Island. He kept his mouth tightly closed, not wanting to taste the darkness, the desperation. It was all his fault. If he had not been a dragon, if he had not needed to be rescued, maybe the ship could have escaped the sea serpent. A human could get through these trees, but there were not any humans here, due to his own stupidity.

Oh, why had he been so _greedy_? Greedy and selfish. He should have just stayed on that desert island with the gold by himself. Let the others go on without him. Any good he might have done towing the ship could not make up for this helpless situation. It could not make up for his selfish detour to that dead island, with its terrifying, horrible tastes and its screams and the haunted looks on his cousins' faces. If he had just trusted his cousins and followed the blue star, they would have made it here to Ramandu's Island sooner, and who knew what had happened in that lost time? And now Eustace had abandoned the others and failed in the one task that could save them.

Eustace hardly noticed that he was crying. '_I'm sorry,_' he wanted to whimper, but his dragon tongue had no words, to apologize, to call for help. Not that it would matter: he was alone, like he had feared. But Eustace was not afraid of being alone any more. It seemed right that he be stuck here, without anyone to comfort him, anyone to console him. Anyone at all.

Thunder crashed in the distance, waves beat below him like angry blows. He heard the trees shaking in the wind, which howled like wolves attacking their prey. Even in the overwhelming noise, however, Eustace froze to hear a response to his self-recrimination, an answer to his belief that he was alone. He heard the padding of muffled feet on the cliff above him, and a rolling whisper of something that reminded Eustace of the purr of Cream the cat. Only this was deeper, truer, and Eustace could not help but open his eyes and look up to see what was making that sound. What he saw when he looked up at the ledge terrified Eustace out of his mind.

It was a lion.

Eustace may have been a dragon, with scaled like steel and with teeth and claws to petrify even great predators. Under the steady stare of _this _lion, however, Eustace felt as helpless as a newly-hatched duckling. He knew instinctively that this lion could tear him apart with one swipe of his paw.

Suddenly Eustace really, _really _wished he had not teased Lucy about her Aslan. Not just because it had been mean, but because he realized that _this was Aslan _and Eustace could only feel shame at the mockery that had poured from his mouth. How had he even dared to think so little of the Lion? Eustace hung his head in shame, unable to keep his eyes on the golden glow that overshadowed even the great lights that still struggled against each other in the distance.

The dragon lifted his head suddenly. He thought he had heard his name being called, but there had been no sound. "Eustace," he heard again and, unable to resist, Eustace looked up at the Lion. Shaken by what he saw on Aslan's face, Eustace crouched down as low as he could, idly wishing he could sink into the ground beneath him. Not because he was afraid – well, he _was_, but not _that _kind of afraid. No, Eustace was simply confounded and shaken by the utter love in the Lion's eyes. At least, love was the only word he could think to describe it, though it seemed completely insufficient. Eustace had not realized before now how little he truly knew of love. He had seen a pale wisp of this on his mother's face, occasionally, when she thought he could not see her. A fuller expression shone from his cousins, for each other and for Caspian, for the crew, and even for Eustace.

None of it compared to _this._ And it frightened Eustace more than all the sea serpents and dragons and loneliness in both worlds _combined._

_'Go away, go away, go away_,' Eustace chanted silently, unable to remove his gaze from Aslan's face and wanting to flee as fast as he could. It _hurt, _it hurt to see, to _taste._

But the Lion did not move. Instead he smiled sternly. "Come here, Eustace," purred that voice and Eustace cowered. "Will you not come to me, child?"

Eustace whimpered. _'It will hurt_,' he cried in his heart, but Aslan heard him.

The Lion somehow looked grave and joyful at the same time. "Yes, it will. But come to me and I will remove your burden and give you mine." Somehow, Eustace knew he did not mean the sword.

Offered by anyone else, Eustace would have refused out right. He would claim he was fine as he was, he did not want help, did not want to be given a _burden._ At that moment, however, Eustace could only think that anything would be better than how he was now; certainly if the burden was done and given by Aslan. So, terrified as he was by the pain he knew would come, Eustace pushed aside the fear, threw everything aside, and began climbing up the cliff, knowing without being told that this must be done without dragon's wings.

Somehow, the ledge he was on now seemed so far away from the top of the cliff where Aslan stood waiting. Still, he dug his claws into the rock and climbed. And, oh, was it painful to reach towards Aslan's golden light! It felt like his skin was on fire and ice, burning cold with every inch he moved forward. Yet, though his skin burned, his body grew lighter, as if shedding the weight of his guilt. After an eternity of climbing, he reached upward once more, and the pain reached deep, into his heart, burning. But that, oh but that was a good pain, immensely powerful, but burning with a warmth that was missing before.

Just as he thought he might die of it, a soft paw covered Eustace's hand as it trembled, holding desperately to the side of the cliff. Feeling lighter than he had even had flying, Eustace let himself be helped, pulled, until he was hauled over the top of the cliff. For a moment, he lay flat on the ground, his face tickled by fragrant grass. Eustace breathed deeply and pushed himself to his knees with his… Eustace blinked. His arms, now thin and clothes, ended not with claws but with ten pale, pink fingers with short, grubby fingernails. Perplexed, and not daring to be hopeful, Eustace looked up as Aslan who sat in front of him. The Lion smiled. "Now you are as you were made."

Eustace felt water on his cheeks, but there was no rain falling near them. He awkwardly wiped at the tears, not yet used to his new body. "Thank you," he whispered, voice harsh from disuse. "Thank you."

Aslan regally nodded his head in reply, then briefly nuzzled Eustace's hair as the boy bent his neck. The Lion then stood back. "And now, my son, you have a mission to complete."

Eustace's heart leapt to his throat as he remembered. "The sword! I left it…" He swallowed hard, thinking of the tall cliff he had barely been able to climb as a dragon. Stupid, stupid, he should have… but Aslan did not look perturbed. In fact, he smiled a mysterious smile, as if sharing a joke.

"It is time."

Eustace heard the command and automatically turned, looking over the side of the cliff, ready to scale the precipice if need be. He was therefore startled to see that the ledge from which he had climbed was only a couple of feet below him. The part of his brain that dealt with logic screamed, but Eustace forced it to shut up. Carefully leaning over, he grabbed the hilt of the sword and hauled it up. Smiling, Eustace turned towards Aslan and asked, "What…?" The question faded with the smile. Before him stood only a forest. Aslan was gone.

While disappointed, Eustace squared his shoulders, tightened his grip on the sword, and began running into the woods. He had a mission to complete.

000000000000

Edmund barely choked back a scream as a tooth caught on his arm, scrapping it as he barely missed the rest of the giant mouth. He whacked at the sea serpent with Rhindon, but again it recoiled too-fast for him to do more than knock against the armor-like skin of the serpent's face. Edmund could still hear desperate shouting below on deck, as Caspian and the crew tried to use harpoons and ropes to strain and slow the great monster, to give Edmund time to make a mortal strike. It was not working; the sea serpent was too strong, too fast for the crew of the _Dawn Treader_.

One of the ropes snapped and several slackened as the sea serpent's tail slammed into the deck of the ship. Edmund tried to aim at the serpent's eye as it lunged again at him, but the blow glanced off the iron-hard brow ridge. In response, the serpent slammed the side of its head against Edmund, sending him crashing into an already unsturdy railing. Edmund barely had enough time to slide to the floor of the crow's nest before that piece of rail broke and fell into the churning sea. The wooden planks of the flood were slick with rain, and Edmund had a hard time making it to his feet again.

Dodging yet another bit of the sea serpent's jaws, Edmund spared a moment to wish Peter was here, and not just because his brother would be better at fighting this thing. No, Edmund really wished Peter was here because, well, he could hardly remember a more hopeless battle. And, although he had never spoken of it before, Edmund had always thought…he had hoped that Peter would be there. Be _here_, at…at the end of all things.

But Edmund, no matter his childish wishes, was a knight and a king. He would fight, he would _fight _this! Edmund grimaced as he swung Rhindon at the sea serpent, only to be blocked once more. He struck again, long heedless of the shrieks of the serpent. He did not care what Aslan had said, _he was going to fight this. _

His arms ached from fighting a seemingly immovable object. He felt the bruises all along his body from throwing himself around the crow's nest. His clothes were soaked through with icy water, from sea and rain, and he had a hard time keeping his grip on his sword, a hard time keeping his footing, so frozen were his extremities. Still, Edmund fought, even with labored breathing and pounding heart and aching body. Edmund let out a sobbing breath as he hit the floor of the crow's nest again. He had to keep fighting, he had to He couldn't…he couldn't…

The sea serpent shrieked and Edmund rolled to his feet. As another piece of the crow's nest broke away, Edmund could only stand on what was left. He was running out of space in which to dodge, his attacks were too slow. What parts of the crow's nest remained were broken and sharp, already the cause of more wounds than the serpent itself. High wind and heavy rain only added to the troubles, as Edmund was forced to duck and dodge without falling into the choppy waves when the _Dawn Treader _rocked from side to side.

In truth, considering all this, what happened next was truly not very unexpected, at least in essence. However, less expected was the choice that was presented, the action that was taken, and the final result of just one, small misstep. And this key even started out so very simply.

As the sea serpent struck again, Edmund, for once, actually had plenty of time to dodge. The serpent plowed past him – tearing out more harpoons as it did so, if the shouting was anything to go by. So the problem was not the result of a successful attack by the sea serpent. The problem came when Edmund, in the course of dodging the sea serpent's strike, caught his foot on some of the debris lying in the crow's nest. He stumbled, and when he reached out his free hand – his left hand – to steady himself against the mast, he overbalanced and fell forward, landing hard on his chest. The air was knocked out of him, but that was not the worst of it. In fact, there were two things that happened in that moment which were far worse.

For one, when he fell, the black, knotted prayer rope had caught on a splinter in the mast. Already loose, it unraveled itself from Edmund's arm through the force of his fall. Now it fluttered in the gale, held to the mast by only a few caught threads still entangled with the splintered wood. For the other, the force of his unexpected meeting with the floor of the crow's nest had jarred Edmund's right elbow. The shock of pain ran down his arms to his already cold and rain-soaked fingers, and Edmund could only watch, horrified, as Rhindon slipped from his grasp. It slide across the wood to teeter precariously on the edge of the crow's nest.

And thus the choice was presented: prayer rope, threatened by wind, or sword, dangling over ship and sea. Above Edmund, the sea serpent was rearing back, preparing to strike. Time seemed to slow to a stop as realization dawned. If he grabbed Rhindon, kept fighting, the rope that had been such a comfort to him on this voyage, a memory of a fallen friend, would be stolen by the wind, lost forever. If he reached for the rope, there would be no time to dodge or get to the sword before the serpent struck and Rhindon fell. His instincts screamed for him to stretch his hand out for Rhindon, for protection. Yet in those eternal seconds, Edmund heard Aslan's words: "Trust in that which saves." And then he remembered…

_._

_Aslan's eyes glimmered sternly, fondly, as he gazed upon Edmund, who repeated his heartfelt, broken question. "Tell me, please, will you tell me what I must do?"_

_ And Aslan answered: "Hear me now, my son." And Edmund, burying his face in the Lion's fur, did. "Do not fear the death that awaits you." The boy shuddered. "Edmund." Aslan said his name with a voice so full of love that he had to heed it. "Have I not died?" Edmund nodded, his fingers tightening around strands of golden mane. "And do I not live?" Again, Edmund nodded, remembering the joy he had felt when he had first seen Aslan alive after his death. "Death no longer has any power, in any world – it has been embittered and destroyed."_

_ Edmund pulled back, suddenly angry. "How can you say that? You let others die, your _people _die!"_

_ Aslan was not upset at this outburst. "They have died, and yet they live on."_

_ "In my _heart, _I suppose." Edmund nearly spat in scorn at the idea – the first time someone had tried to comfort him with that platitude, he had not reacted well at all. _

_ Aslan, however, laughed softly and smiled. "No, Edmund, they _live._" The words echoed through the clearing, through the forest, through Edmund, who sucked in a breath at the mystery held within. Aslan's face, then, grew more solemn, and Edmund's pain was mirrored in his eyes more deeply than should be possible. "When the time comes, my son, I ask that you trust in me, not in the strength of your sword. For not all battles are won by fighting, and steel has not made the greatest weapon." And the golden eyes of Aslan melted into peace._

And Edmund chose and the sea serpent struck.

00000000000

Caspian swore violently as yet another harpoon was dislodged by the thrashing sea serpent. Men scrambled around him to pull in the harpoon the throw again, trying to gain the leverage needed to complete their plan. _'It's not enough,'_ Caspian silently cursed, his stomach twisting. He was pulling at the rope in his hand for all it was worth, the men next to him and across the deck doing the same. It just was not enough. The harpoons were not hooking through the beast enough, there were not enough ropes, not enough strength in all their arms to pull the ropes taut in either direction to hold the sea serpent in place. Caspian could only watch in growing helplessness at the crow's nest, far above, where Edmund stood alone against the giant snake.

_'This is my fault_,' thought Caspian in growing despair. _'I made the plan, I sent him up there._' He pulled harder as the serpent ignored the harpoons and broke off another part of the crow's nest, barely missing Edmund. _'He's tiring, he can't do this much longer. My brother is going to die and it's my fault._' The deck of the ship swayed and Caspian lost his footing. He desperately held on to the wet rope, not wanting to lose his grip as he fell.

Thankfully Lucy was there to help him back to his feet. Caspian spared a brief moment to appreciate her calm composure, which remained fixed despite the situation. Unable to use her bow for fear of hitting Edmund, and without the upper body strength needed to hoist harpoon and rope, Lucy had taken it upon herself to command the crew. She pulled them up when they fell, directed their aim, told each man which way to pull the ropes. Caspian knew she had to be near insensible with sorry, but she hid her terror well and took control while Caspian lent his strength to the plan. He could only pray he would not be repaying her by letting their brother die.

More ropes broke, more harpoons clattered to the deck of the _Dawn Treader. _Anger welled up in Caspian as he watched the distant figure of Edmund, corned and barely escaping yet again. _'No. No, he's_ not _going to die. He's _my _brother, under _my _command, following _my _orders. I'm not letting him get killed while I just stand here and _watch.' It was a decision bolstered when the sea serpent twisted once more and the pressure on the rope in Caspian's hand was too much – it snapped, sending Caspian flying backward.

He collided with the quarterdeck stairs, banging his head as he fell. Shaking it off, Caspian leapt to his feet, dashing back towards the starboard side of the mast. His goal was in sight when Lucy stepped in front of him, another harpoon in hand and ready for him to take. Only, instead of taking the harpoon from her, Caspian shook his head. "No, I'm going up to help him."

Lucy's eyes widened and the harpoon dropped to her side. Caspian moved to pass her, but she stopped him. "I'm coming, too."

"No!" shouted Caspian, and Lucy nearly jumped at the vehemence in his voice. "Stay here and keep the men on task!" With that he brushed by her, towards the ropes. Had he been able to read Lucy's mind at that moment, he would have been startled to realize how much he resembled High King Peter at his most commanding. As it was, all of Caspian's attention was on trying to reach the crow's nest. It was a precarious attempt, as he had to climb one of the fallen and torn ropes hanging from the yard– the usual rope ladder had been torn away by one of the sea serpent's vicious attacks.

Caspian struggled to climb the slick rope, weighed down by his rain-soaked clothes and heavy armor. He was thankful Lucy had thought to either weigh or tie down the bottom of the rope so that Caspian was not flung into the sea by the wind and the rolling ship. Still, each inch took effort, and Caspian cursed himself for moving so slowly. As much as possible, Caspian kept his gaze fixed on Edmund, who was quickly being boxed in on the crow's nest, and having little success finding a vulnerable part of the sea serpent to attack. Caspian urged himself to move faster, forcing his frozen, wet fingers to keep hold of the rope and move upwards.

When he was nearly two-thirds of the way to the crow's nest, however, Caspian stopped in his tracks. Too far away to help, Caspian could only watch in horror as Edmund stumbled and Rhindon was flung away from him until it teetered on the edge of the crow's nest, above and to the left of Caspian. Caspian's heart leapt to his throat, however, when Edmund did not immediately grab for the sword, despite the fact that he sea serpent had its jaws open to attack at any moment. And then Caspian could only scream his brother's name as Edmund rose and lunged, not at Rhindon, but at the mast itself, even as the sea serpent struck, its rows of giant teeth ready to close over the weaponless king.

Then, everything froze. It lasted only a moment, as if the world itself had held its breath, as if each raindrop waited in anticipation. The wind flattened, the shouts of men were silenced, and the waves were becalmed.

And then the world exploded.

.

At least, it looked and _felt _like the world exploded. Just when it had looked like Caspian's fear had been realized, a light had shone forth from the crow's nest. It was a light of purest white, brighter than any star, even Lilliandil. Caspian saw only a hint of it before the pain of the light grew too great and he had to turn away, close his eyes as firmly as possible. Still, the light permeated everything, and Caspian could only hold tightly to the rope and pray to Aslan to save them from this _light _that was so full of radiant pain and overwhelming, joyous comfort.

As if in answer, the light dimmed and Caspian realized that he should probably start breathing again. Finally daring to open his eyes, Caspian squinted, trying to make out what was happening in the brightness. Caspian could just make out the form of the sea serpent behind the light, writhing and thrashing as it had never done before. It was screaming, now, tortured screams, and Caspian wondered if this creature of darkness could feel only the light's agony and not its exquisite warmth.

Without warning, the light pulsed and the scream torn from the sea serpent was a death knell. Then the light, as abruptly as it appeared, disappeared once more and the sea serpent was finally, _finally _still. Slowly, then, almost gracefully, the creature slid down into the water. The deck of the _Dawn Treader _groaned and creaked as the body gradually slipped limply away, until it disappeared beneath the waves.

Caspian looked from the deck up towards the crow's nest. There, a dark figure, lit only by the dim mast-lamp, stood Edmund, his left arm held up as if still covering his eyes from the white light. The world still frozen, Caspian waited, frozen himself, watching Edmund as he stood. Then the world let out its breath, the wind blew, the rain descended, and Edmund slumped bonelessly to the floor of the crow's nest.

.

Frantically, Caspian resumed his ascent. The wind howled and Caspian almost fancied he could hear the dismayed screams of whatever power had sent the sea serpent after them. If he had believed it possible, Caspian would have thought that the wind was blowing harder than before, tearing violently at the ship, and the rain began turning to ice. Despite the growing belligerence around him, Caspian stayed determinedly on his course and just prayed that Lucy could organize the crew to keep the _Dawn Treader _together; he had to get to Edmund.

Exhausted, and arms aching, Caspian still only paused once; and that was when the violent movement of the ship caused Rhindon to fall off the edge of the crow's nest. Almost without thinking, Caspian swung his left arm away from the rope and, somehow, his nearly numb fingers wrapped around the falling sword before it could plummet into the sea. Caspian gasped in pain, for he had caught the blade, and it had sliced his palm. Likely if his hand had not already been numbed by the cold, he would have dropped it. Instead, he managed to maneuver it awkwardly under his belt. It was not completely secured there, without a scabbard, but it would do for the moment.

And a moment was all Caspian allowed himself before he continued the last few feet up the rope. The blood dripping from his left hand made the wet rope even slicker, and Caspian was more using his knees to push himself up than anything. By sheer force of will, Caspian made it so that he was level with the crow's nest, before using the rolling of the ship to swing over to what little remained of the structure. There was barely enough room for him, and the crow's nest creaked ominously as he landed, but Caspian's attention was focused on the slumped, motionless body in front of him.

Keeping to his knees, Caspian hovered over Edmund, his heart pounding in fear. "Ed?" he whispered, voice trembling. He almost did not want to turn the body over, to see Edmund's face, afraid of what he might find. He had to, though, and Caspian did, pulling Edmund until he was face up and half in Caspian's lap, while Caspian tried to shelter his brother from the sting of hail with his own body. Edmund's eyes were closed, his skin pale, bloodless. For a terrifying moment, Caspian knew the worst had happened.

Still, Caspian was not a fool, and he refused to believe his eyes, not yet. Trying to hold his arm steady, he held his wrist close to Edmund's mouth. A moment passed; then another, with nothing, _nothing_. About to give in to despair, Caspian blinked. Was that…? Hope rose as Caspian stared, afraid that what he was seeing was a cruel hallucination. But not, there it was: a slight fog condensing on the metal plate of his vambrace, a slight warmth on Caspian's frozen hand. Breath.

Caspian nearly sobbed with relief, but forced himself to check Edmund's injuries, finding many but none dangerous yet. Not having the energy to do much else, Caspian held Edmund close, protecting him as best he could form the wind and hail. The storm was somehow picking up further, and Caspian did not know how much longer the _Dawn Treader _could last. A ship could only take so much damage before she gave up the ghost and sank.

"Hopefully we still have a longboat or two left," murmured Caspian to an unresponsive Edmund. "You do realize, if you don't wake up soon, I don't think I can carry you down to get in one. And you may want to be awake to swim, if it comes to that." Caspian realized that he was beginning to ramble, and so shut his mouth and looked away from Edmund's still too-pale face.

They were still surrounded by near complete darkness, that was no surprise. However, Caspian was startled to see flashes of light in the distance, blue and green and reminding him of dim echoes of the great white light that had destroyed the sea serpent. He did not get a chance to study them for long, however. A continual gust of wind nearly knocked Caspian over, and the hail was beginning to cut through skin, so he curled over Edmund, thankful that Edmund's own armor would protect most of the rest of him and that Caspian could concentrate on protecting his brother's exposed head. There was little else he could do.

Caspian did not know how long he knelt there, how long the wind and hail bombarded them, how many please to Aslan left his lips. He _did _notice when he began hearing a deep cracking sound over the wind, felt the crow's nest shudder beneath them. _'The mast is breaking,'_ he realized with a gasp. And when that happened, both he and Edmund would be lost to the unmerciful waves.

However, Caspian did not have enough time to even begin thinking up a desperate plan. A frightened flash of green light shone at the edge of his vision, and Caspian automatically looked up. The wind and hail ceased just as suddenly as the green light grew, becoming a field of poison just ahead of the _Dawn Treader_. Then, a column of deep blue light rose in the air behind the green wall. For a moment there was silence, save for the sound of lapping waves.

Then Caspian heard the loud cry of a sea bird and the dark blue column flew apart, racing like lightning across the sky. It tore into the curtain of green poison, shattering it like so much glass. The sound of thunder rang through the air as the blue light surged past the _Dawn Treader _and into the heart of Dark Island. Black clouds screamed and fled, stretching into grey mist and then disappearing. Having learned his lesson from the white light, Caspian shut his eyes, even though the blue was hardly as painful. Still, the sounds were enough for Caspian. He heard the shattering of bells, the trumpet of horns, deep laughter tinged with triumph. Then he heard a final scream and then it was over.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

Caspian waited a long moment in the silence. He began to feel warmth on the back of his head, however, and so slowly uncurled, opening his eyes and then blinking at the brightness of the sun. Straightening his back slightly, he took in his surroundings, already noticing that the violent swaying of the crow's nest was slowing. When his eyesight finally adjusted to the light, the first thing Caspian noticed was that the black clouds of Dark Island had dispersed into a pleasant grey-white fog that even now the sun was beginning to burn off. More interesting than that, however, was the conspicuous _lack _of island beneath the fog. Where rocks had only recently threatened to dash the ship to pieces, smooth rolls of waves now passed harmlessly. The prison that had held Lord Rhoop, the base of a dark threat to Narnia and her people, was gone, as if it had never existed. All except… Caspian squinted. There was something in the water, but between the fog and the distance he could not make it out.

Not that it mattered a moment later as a soft groan rose next to him and Caspian had to jerk his head away quickly as an arm rose up. Caspian had to grin when he realized that the arm was no covering Edmund's face – apparently the younger king had woken and had not been pleased to be blasted by sunlight when he tried to open his eyes. "Ed?" Caspian asked, gently grabbing the arm. "Ed, are you alright?" An unintelligible grumble was all the reply he got. "What was that?"

Edmund spoke louder. "Turn off the sun, will you?"

Caspian grinned, relief bubbling within him. "Sorry, Ed, I'm enjoying it too much." When Edmund did not reply, however, Caspian frowned. "Edmund?"

Instead of answering, Edmund slowly removed his arm from in front of his eyes. For a moment Caspian thought he saw a flash of the white light in Edmund's face, and even turned slightly away from its brightness. But then Edmund just blinked his bright-dark eyes against the sun. "The darkness?" Edmund's voice was little more than a whisper when it rose in question.

Caspian smiled, his hand moving to Edmund's shoulder. "It's gone, Edmund. It's all over."

Edmund blinked again and focused his eyes on Caspian as if noticing him for the first time. Caspian could see when his words registered, even though he could not quite interpret the look that came to Edmund's face, a look that seemed to hold understanding, joy, and… sadness? Caspian did not ask for clarification, however, as Edmund repeated his words. "It's all over," the younger king said with awe. Then the most brilliant smile slowly overwhelmed the strange look and Edmund began laughing.

It was not a hysterical laugh, but a real one, perhaps more real than any laughter Caspian had heard before. The laugh was of joy, and Caspian could not help but join in the laughter. Relief hung in the air, relief and life and light. But such laughter can only last a short while, for too soon the reality of the world intervenes – as it did then with the mast creaking loudly beneath them. Wincing, Caspian collected himself and began helping Edmund sit up. "I believe that is our signal to climb down, before we _fall _down."

Doing so was not particularly simple to figure out, with all the torn and fraying ropes that fluttered in the light, pleasant breeze. Even then, once they were able to catch a sturdy enough rope, Caspian realized he should probably not bleed all over it, and managed to find a surprisingly partially-dry handkerchief to use as a bandage. Finally, they were able to begin descending, Caspian insisting on going first so as to make sure the rope could hold the weight.

Touching down was a relief after being on the unsteady crow's nest. What was not a relief was the glare Lucy was leveling him with. Caspian winced as she stalked up to him until she came to a stop much closer than the king was comfortable with. "I congratulate you on knowing how to give orders like a king," Lucy said softly so that she could only be heard by Caspian, who belatedly recalled his rather impudent order to her before he had gone after Edmund. Her compliment was sincere, despite its formal stiffness and accompanying glare, and it was good to hear it from Lucy. Still, impressed while she may be that he had given the order, the Valiant Queen's glare turned downright deadly. "Try to do it again with me in such a situation and you will _not _be pleased with the consequences."

Caspian knew better than to argue. In hindsight, he should have allowed the quicker, more experienced Lucy to climb the ropes after Edmund, but he could not regret ordering her to remain on the relatively safer deck. Still, he knew that, as much as Lucy had agreed to follow his commands on the voyage, she had other ideas when it came to her brother. Caspian was just glad that she had followed the order despite this, that she had trusted him to take care of Edmund. Though, that did not mean he cared for the dark force of her ire.

Then, almost without warning, the Valiant Queen melted into Lucy and she threw her arms around Caspian's chest. "I'm glad you're safe. Are you hurt at all?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Just my hand, but it can wait." Despite his reassurances, Lucy still stepped back and examined the cut. After declaring him lucky not to have severed a tendon, she handed him over to a sailor with a medical kit, which also left him free to report the objects he had seen in the water to Drinian. The Captain looked exhausted – and he must have been to allow himself to be relieved at the helm – but he was still the captain and so he dutifully ordered eyes on watch for whatever the objects may be.

In the time it took to arrange this, Edmund had drawn near to the deck. He had barely touched boot to wood before the arms of his sister were around him, clinging tightly. Caspian watched from a slight distance, glad to see that the rest of the crew was giving the two a wide berth to reunite. He could not hear their words, but he could see Lucy's face. It was the same picture of contradictions that Edmund's had been – joy mixed with sadness, hope mixed with understanding. Caspian did not know what to make of it; he felt as if he was missing some vital piece of information, without which he could not possibly hope to understand. Perhaps this thought should have made Caspian feel left out, but in truth he felt relieved. Whatever he was missing, he somehow knew, would change things forever, and he wished to put that time off for as long as possible.

"Ships to starboard!" came the sudden shout, tearing Caspian away from his fellow sovereigns, who themselves turned at the shout. Rushing starboard, he could barely make out the fog-enveloped shapes, but he could see that they were certainly ships, ships that were coming ever closer.

As the fog continued to lift, Caspian could soon see that the ships were of various forms and sizes. There, a caravel, there a small fishing trawler, there what looked to be a Calormene galley. "Do we have signal?" Caspian called out, and was answered by a sailor who managed to scrounge some of the flags from one of the less destroyed areas of the _Dawn Treader_.

With the mast in the state it was in, and most of the ropes torn or frayed, they had no way to hoist the flags as they traditionally would. True to form, however, Reepicheep took it upon himself to climb the battered mast, flags in mouth, and somehow managed to make them visible. The Mouse spelled out that they were a friendly ship – even to the Calormene galley which was not looking very friendly – and that they had vital information for the other ships. For truly, these must be the ships lost to the green mist, and the _Dawn Treader _needed to confer and help these people as she could.

One by one, the other ships and boats returned the signals, or some variation of the same. Even the Calormene galley and another Calormene fishing vessel, while last to indicate peace, eventually flew flags of treaty. Of course, the _Dawn Treader _was in no condition to move to confer with the armada, something the other vessels must have seen, for most anchored where they were. One ship, about the size of the _Dawn Treader_ and bearing a Lone Islands insignia, kept forward, eventually drawing up beside the Narnian ship. "Ahoy!" shouted one of the Lone Islands sailors. "This be the _Lasting Hope_. What ship be ye?"

Since Tavros, as a minotaur, had the most resonant voice, it was he who answered, much to the apparent shock of the crew of the _Lasting Hope. _"This is the _Dawn Treader_, royal flagship of Narnia, under the crown of Caspian X, King of Narnia under Aslan and the High King!"

There was a long silence in response, presumably as the _Lasting Hope _came to grips with the seemingly impossible presence of a minotaur and, more impossibly, a minotaur on a _Narnian _ship. After all, most, if not every, ship here would have been lost when under the impression that Miraz and ancient Telmarine ideology ruled Narnia. Finally, the _Lasting Hope _replied. "_Dawn Treader_, have you any idea what is going on?"

Another pause. "It's a long story. Fair west is an allied island – that mountain in the distance." Indeed, the sky was now clear enough that the Mountain of Light could be seen glinting in the sunlight. "Though, we may be awhile in reaching there."

Caspian surveyed the _Lasting Hope _as the conversation progressed. Just as he stood by Tavros to relay orders, so he could see who was likely the other ship's captain next to their speaker. The figures were too far away to be clear, save for the captain's shock of red hair. The _Lasting Hope _called out again, "If'n you like, we can toss ye lines and tow yet there."

Lucy, who knew the state of the _Dawn Treader _better than Caspian, urged him to accept the offer. With some finagling, it did not take long for the ropes to be secured. The _Lasting Hope _signaled the other ships her intent, and set off towards Ramandu's Island, the _Dawn Treader _in unsteady tow. The armada of lost ships followed at a distance, the Calormene ships bringing up the rear. Their wariness lasted until the island grew clearer, something Caspian could understand. After the shadows of Dark Island, the gleaming Mountain of Light, the sparkling waterfalls, and the welcoming, living trees of Ramandu's Island brought a cascading sense of relief to all who saw it.

.

The crew of the Dawn Treader, exhausted as they were, continued to scurry around as they were towed, commencing repairs and stabilizing the ship's many wounds. Only the injured were excused, but most helped anyway – after all, anyone injured badly enough to be immobile had been healed by Lucy's cordial. Caspian, working alongside the others, had never been so proud of his men. They had borne the fear and darkness, fought the serpent without ceasing, and now cared for their comrades and their ship without thought of their own aches and exhaustion. Indeed, an attitude of satisfaction permeated everyone on ship, a joy that the darkness had been defeated, that they had conquered.

The only time this satisfaction faltered for Caspian was when he sought to return Rhindon to Edmund while the two were working below deck. The younger king had looked at the proffered sword in something akin to confusion before he shook his head. "No, Caspian," Edmund had said softly. "No more swords. Not for me." Then he had turned back to his work, leaving Caspian confused and with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach until the shout came that they had reached Ramandu's Island.

Anchoring offshore, only the kings, queen, and a small guard, including Reepicheep, went ashore. Some of the other ships, including the _Lasting Hope, _disembarked boats, though many did not. Caspian assumed, as the majority of ships seemed to come from the Lone Islands, that they knew their fellow Islanders and trusted that those from the _Lasting Hope _and the larger Lone Islands ship would see to their interests. Plus, a few of the ships had likely noticed that there was not much room on the small shore. Therefore, a boat each from the _Lasting Hope, _the larger Lone Island naval vessel, a Terebinthian schooner, and the Calormene galley and fishing trawler joined the Narnians on the beach.

Even with those few boats, there still ended up being a bit of a crowd on shore. Realizing they needed more room, Caspian climbed the first few stairs up the cliff and addressed the assembled sailors. "My good people! I understand you probably have quite a few questions about where you are and what has happened. First, I swear upon my honor that you are safe here. Secondly, if you would follow us above, there is a larger clearing and a table set with food if you are hungry. I only warn you, do not touch the Stone Knife that lies on the Table, nor touch the Mountain of Light, for it is hallowed ground."

The captain of the Calormene galley, identified by his large turban, glanced warily from one of the Narnian faun sailors to Caspian. "And who are you, that we should trust your honor?"

Caspian, used to dealing with snippy Calormenes, was unruffled by the stuffy questions. "I am Caspian X, King of Narnia under Aslan and the High King, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table and Lord of Telmar."

A man form the Lone Island naval vessel wrinkled his forehead in a frown. "Last we heard, Miraz was still in charge of Narnia."

A young Terebinthian snorted. "Shows ye how out of it ye be. I'z been all of near three years since King Caspian claimed 'is throne from 'is uncle."

That startled the Calormene galley captain. "Touched of the moon! That happened but last year!"

A throat cleared, and everyone looked at the tallest of the Terebinthians, wearing the olive branch clasps of a captain. "Before the bickering and arguing continues, I suggest we follow the young king as he suggested."

The Calormene captain gave the Terebinthian a look of contempt. "And why, pray tell, should we do that instead of acquiring our answers immediately?"

A different voice answered. "Because my people are hungry and the sand here is getting in my boots." The voice belonged to one of the women in the group from the _Lasting Hope. _ She was slightly older than Caspian, and deep red hair spilled out from beneath a captain's hat. "So we should probably go to where we can settle in for a _long _story." The galley captain looked set to argue – after all, who was a woman to tell him what to do – but everyone else was following the woman captain's lead and taking to the stars after Caspian and the Narnians. Caspian was good and did not smile at the put-out look on the galley captain's face when even the trawler sailors followed without much fuss.

The group reached the clearing around Aslan's Table soon enough, thanks to Caspian who had learned a shortcut from Lilliandil – had it only been the night before? The sailors from the lost ships were hesitant to approach the Table at all, but after a few of the Narnians grabbed an apple or two, a few of the hungrier sailors began mingling and tasting the food. Caspian, along with Lucy and Edmund, was more preoccupied by the figure who got up from the Table and nearly ran towards them. "Eustace!" Lucy cried and drew the red-faced boy into a hug.

Edmund grinned and clapped Eustace on the shoulder once he extracted himself from Lucy's grasp. "I see you managed to become un-dragoned!"  
While the captains muttered confusedly to each other, Eustace smiled, his eyes gleaming. "It was Aslan. I couldn't get in and he appeared and he… he changed me." The last was said softly, as if Eustace almost did not quite believe it. Then Eustace shook his head, still smiling. "Sorry it took so long to get the sword to the Table. Is everyone alright?"

Lucy was quick to reassure him, but there was time for little else. They had to focus on the captains and their lost ships. Surprisingly, Eustace was actually helpful in this matter, when he noticed the captains and asked, "Who are they?"

The galley captain, apparently annoyed at the distraction Eustace had caused – or maybe annoyance was his perpetual state – was quick to answer first. "I am Pahbai Tarkaan son of Huramzid Tarkaan son of Ardazir Tarkaan, Master of the great ship _Zinjara, _pride of the Calormene navy, defeater of the pirate Yulah…" He looked like he was going to continue in that vein, but Caspian was amused to see the Calormene trawler captain roll his eyes and interrupt Tarkaan Pahbai.

"Grant me pardon, great Tarkaan," Was that sarcasm? "but it would perhaps be unwise to boast in front of barbarians who are not able to appreciate the magnificence of your victories." Tarkaan Pahbai was gratified by this obeisance, and allowed the fisherman to introduce himself. "Your majesty, I am Shaipor bey-Bahrm." Caspian wondered at the askance look Tarkaan Pahbai sent the fisherman at that name, but he was not well versed in how Calormene names denoted station and so probably was missing some key clue. "My boat is the _Agur," _Shaipor continued simply before lapsing to silence.

The Terebinthin captain simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "I am Captain Temisto of the _Adventurer_." With that name for a ship, he was likely a highly-regarded merchant – Terebinthian merchants took a strange delight in alphabetizing things.

More succinct, and yet ultimately more impressive, than Captain Temisto was the Lone Island naval captain. Having scant knowledge of Lone Island naval insignia, it was not until the middle-aged man spoke that Caspian learned that captain was not the correct rank for this man who was, more properly: "Admiral Herist. Lone Islands". Apparently the admiral preferred observing to talking at the moment.

That left the female captain, who was presently glaring at her sailors, some of whom were snickering as they munched on food from Aslan's Table. The captain sighed. "Just call me Captain Geni."

One of Geni's sailors snorted, to which Captain Geni gave a stern glare. Caspian decided not to ask, instead returning to introductions. "As I said, I am King Caspian. These are Edmund the Just and Lucy the Valiant, king and queen of Narnia's Golden Age."

The collected captains – and admiral – blinked at that introduction. Tarkaan Pahbai opened his mouth, probably to scoff at the very idea of Golden Age monarchs, but Shaipor bey-Bahrm hissed something to him in Eastern Calormene. Whatever he said, Tarkan Pahbai shot Edmund a wary look and then shut up.

Captain Geni folded her arms across her chest. "Nice. Now, do you mind explaining what in the seven heavenly nieces is going on?"

Caspian acquiesced and told them an abbreviated version of what the _Dawn Treader _had gone through: searching for the lost lords, removing Gumpas from power (many Lone Islanders cheered at that), learning of the mist, following the blue star, hearing of the need to find the seven Eternals, and sailing to Dark Island to find the final lord and sword. He began talking about the sea serpent, but Captain Temisto interrupted. "We saw that part."

Caspian paused. "You did?" _He _had barely seen what had gone on through the darkness and he had been on the ship.

Captain Geni nodded. "Yes. One moment, all was dark save for the Constant Light – a small light that has always been in the distance while we were trapped in the darkness."

"Not always," commented Admiral Herist quietly, but he said nothing else.

Shrugging, Geni continued. "The next moment the Constant Light disappeared and we could see your ship being attacked. Try as we might, our ships remained stuck and we could only watch." The red-haired captain's lips drew into a straight line. "Whatever held us wanted to make sure we could see clearly your destruction. Captain Geni's eyes flickered towards Edmund. "I don't think we were intended to see the opposite."

Caspian frowned, wondering exactly what they had seen. He did have a chance to speak up, however, as Eustace, curious, asked, "So, have all of you been stuck here for, what was it, seven years since that green mist thing first appeared?"

Around them, many of the lost sailors stopped what they were doing and stared. "Seven years?" cried out one of them.

And that was how they learned that there had been no sense of passing time on Dark Island and that very few of the lost sailors realized how long they had actually been lost.

000000000000

It took a while to settle everyone's sense of time. Many returned to their ships to spread word of the time lapse, and to supply food. Eventually, only Captain Geni, Shaipor bey-Bahrm, and Admiral Herist remained on the island with the Narnians. The admiral, unperturbed by the chaos resulting from lost time, despite being one of the longest lost, stood calmly to the side, eating an apple. Shaipor bey-Bahrm had joined him to watch amusedly as Captain Geni interrogated Caspian about the overthrow of Gumpas and the people involved. It did not take long for Caspian to figure out the true purpose of her questions, as they tended to center around the rebel group led by a certain, stubborn soldier.

"You're Turion's wife, aren't you?"

Captain Geni unconsciously twisted the ring on her finger. "Yes. I… well, I'm not surprised he rebelled. But after six years…"

Lucy smiled at the captain. "He is a very determined man. It took Edmund quite some time to convince him to remain on Doorn as Captain-General instead of coming with us."

Geni's eyebrows raised. "Captain-General?"

"Yes, I appointed him as the commander of the Duke's Guard," said Caspian. He was surprised when the announcement of this honor was met with a resigned sigh.

The captain rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Just… please don't tell my crew. They'll be insufferable." With that confusing statement, Captain Geni took her leave and walked away to return to her ship.

The Narnians looked to Admiral Herist for answers. After the admiral finished chuckling, he shook his head. "I was friends with her father. He was a bit… ambitious for the future of his only child." Herist's dark eyes sparkled with amusement. "'Geni' is short for 'General'."

Shaipor barked out a laugh and the Narnians who made the connection joined in the laughter. Caspian ruefully thought to himself that perhaps he should have used a different title for the head of the Duke's Guard, despite custom, if only for the sake of the new Captain-General who was married to Captain General.

.

Amusement soon faded and now Caspian was faced with the two men whose crews had apparently been the longest caught in Dark Island. Shaipor seemed content to let Admiral Herist speak, and the admiral's sharp gaze was turned on Caspian. "Your majesty, we may have been remiss in giving you and your crew our thanks for the destruction of Dark Island."

"It wasn't us," Edmund told them.

Interestingly, the two men did not seem confused by this quiet declaration. Instead, they simply gave Edmund a measured look before Herist spoke again. "There is another to whom we also wish to show our gratitude. Those who came later do not realize, but what Captain General called the 'Constant Light', was not always there. Before…in the darkness…" Shadows fell across their faces. Herist shook his head, as if ridding himself of the thoughts within. "It is not something I wish to remember. But then, the Light came and it held back the darkness. _He _held it back, at his own expense – for I saw for a moment at the beginning, that the Constant Light was no light of its own, but the glint of a sword held by a brave man."

"Foolhardy, perhaps," came a hoarse voice near the stone bridge, and they turned to see Lord Rhoop, his bony hands clutching Captain Drinian's arm for support as they walked forward.

Captain Drinian gave Caspian an apologetic look. "He wished to come ashore, your majesty."

Lucy stepped towards them and gently took Rhoop's other arm to help Drinian support the ailing lord. Admiral Herist and Shaipor bey-Bahrm exchanged glances, and Herist cleared his throat. "My lord," he addressed Rhoop, "if there is anything we can do to thank you for taking upon yourself the wrath of the island…"

Rhoop's haunted eyes stopped Herist's speech. For a long moment, the men and woman in the clearing stood in silence at the distraught realization that they could do little to help this man. Then a soft wind blew through the leaves and Caspian was surprised to hear what he thought was a voice on the wind, though he noticed that Edmund did not seem startled. Rhoop certainly seemed to recognize it, his grip on Drinian and Lucy tightening as he looked at nothing in the distance. Caspian was about to ask about the voice, what it was saying, when a familiar light covered the clearing with a blue sheen.

Slowly, Lilliandil descended from the sky, her light paling not unbecomingly against the radiance of the sun. Caspian heard gasps, but his attention remained fixed on the lady as she stepped from the light. Her face showed evident exhaustion, but it made her no less beautiful. Caspian's heart beat strangely as she gave him a warm smile before turning her attention to Rhoop, whose head had bowed low at her arrival. "My dear Lord Rhoop. You have sacrificed much. Will you not let us help you now?"

"My lady," Rhoop said in a whisper, "I only wish not to dream."

Lilliandil smiled and held out her arms. "Then come and rest beside your fellows." With Drinian and Lucy's aid, Rhoop stumbled over to Aslan's Table, and was seated next to Lord Mavrimorn. As Lucy and the captain stood back, Lilliandil gently stroked Rhoop's scraggly, matted hair. Around them the wind whispered and slowly Rhoop's eyes closed, and Lilliandil helped him lay his head gently down on a pillow of soft moss. After it became clear that Rhoop was caught in a sound, dreamless sleep, Lilliandil straightened and turned to those who watched. "By Aslan's grace, he will sleep a healing rest and will be wakened with the others."

Caspian found it interesting that it was Shaipor bey-Bahrm of Calormen who accepted this explanation with keen reverence. "I am glad of it, oh great lady! May it be this humble servant who takes the honor of guarding of these men, however meager his own strength?"

Lilliandil nodded solemnly and Shaipor took position behind the sleeping lords and the end of Aslan's Table. Admiral Herist watched this all warily, as if not sure what to make of the human star who sent men to enchanted sleep. He remained a consummate gentleman, however, and bowed to Lilliandil and the Narnian sovereigns. "My lady, your majesties, if you will excuse me, I must return to the ships." Niceties were exchanged and the admiral left.

Drinian, as well, wanted to quickly return to the _Dawn Treader_ to oversee repairs – Lilliandil graciously allowed that they could use any tree on the island save those whose roots grew into the Mountain of Light. The captain took the remaining sailors with him, leaving Caspian, Lilliandil, Edmund, Lucy, and Eustace alone, save for the sleeping lords and their guardian.

Unsurprisingly, Eustace was first to break the ensuing silence, speaking to Lilliandil. Actually surprising were his words: "Thanks for helping me get to the island with the sword, er, my lady." Lilliandil smiled at the boy and Eustace's ears flushed bright red – not that Caspian could blame him.

Lilliandil turned her proud smile on all of them. "You have done well, my friends. My father and I thank you for your aid in destroying Dark Island."

"So the power that dwelt there is defeated for good?" asked Lucy hopefully.

Lilliandil's smile dimmed slightly. "Defeated, yes, and Dark Island is no more. But in the end the dark power fled the battle, beyond our reach." When she saw their worried faces, Lilliandil continued. "She is greatly diminished, though, and will never again have the power she held here."

Edmund nodded, less alarmed than the others to hear of the enemy's escape. "Her judgment will come in Aslan's time," he pronounced in a low voice, speaking with the authority of a judge himself. Even Eustace heard the sovereignty in the words, and no more was said of their defeated enemy.

Of course, this was partly due to the fact that Rynelf was leading a few Narnian sailors into the clearing. The sailor courteously bowed to their hostess and then addressed the group. "Your majesties, my lady, forgive the interruption. We are searching for a tree to replace the mast, for I fear it is beyond repair as it is. I recalled that there were some tall and straight trees here that could be of use for this and other repairs.

Intrigued by the mention of searching for trees, Edmund joined the group as they hunted along the edges of the clearing; Lucy, too, joined in, and Eustace trailed behind, slightly intrigued by what they were doing. The group's search was made more difficult as, while they could recognize most of the genera, the species were different than what was known in Narnia. They would have to rely on the instinct given them to choose the trees to heal their ship.

Caspian knew that he did not have that instinct, and so he stood next to Lilliandil and watched the others. The two, king and star, did not speak, but it was a comfortable silence. After such a battle, it was pleasant for Caspian to just be still, to enjoy the light and warmth of the sun, to just be in the presence of a lady whom Caspian admired and with whom he hoped to become better acquainted.

He also was glad to be keeping an eye on Edmund, particularly after so nearly losing him to the sea serpent's wrath. What is more, Caspian could, well, _feel _that something was different about Edmund since the battle. Caspian had not realized how dark Edmund's presence had been until now, when the shadows on the Just King's face had disappeared in that transcendent blanket of bright, white light. Something had happened then, when the light had overwhelmed and conquered the serpent. It was as if some great weight had been lifted from Edmund; Caspian only wished he could know what had troubled Edmund so much before. He wished he had seen it and done something to help.

Caspian's musings were interrupted by their very subject. "This would have been perfect," said Edmund and Caspian looked at the tree on which Edmund had placed his hand. It was tall and straight, probably a type of conifer is Caspian had his guess. Unlike any conifer the Narnians knew, this one had long, flat needles that were the red-purple of a cherry plum. The small, golden seed-cones hung surprisingly low on the branches. It did look like it would make a good mast, better than the others around the clearing. However, Caspian saw the problem as clearly as Edmund had: its roots were entwined in the soil of the Mountain of Light. They could not take this tree from the sacred ground.

While obviously disappointed, Edmund still smiled and fondly patted the tree's trunk. Caspian felt and then saw Lilliandil leave his side and join Edmund next to the red-purple conifer. She spoke to the young king; but her voice was so soft that Caspian could not make out the words. Whatever she said, Edmund nodded and reached up towards a branch, which almost looked as if it was reaching back. Caspian watched, intrigued, as Edmund gently plucked a cone from the branch. He held it cupped in his hands as Lilliandil scooped a handful of soil on top of it. Without even looking at the other Narnians, who had gathered near Caspian to see what was going on, Edmund began striding away, Lilliandil following. Caspian exchanged a confused look with Lucy before hurrying to follow after them.

It was a strange journey back to the _Dawn Treader. _Little was said; Caspian, Eustace, Lucy, and Rynelf just automatically manned the oars and rudder, while Edmund and Lilliandil simply sat silently as they approached the ship. Even conversation on the _Dawn Treader _itself quieted as the longboat reached it, and Caspian helped Lilliandil board the ship, followed by Edmund, soil and seed-cone still in hand. Perhaps this silence came from awe at Lilliandil's literally heavenly beauty, or perhaps because a small tree shoot was already, impossibly, sprouting from beneath the handful of soil that Edmund held.

The Narnians gathered, watching as Lilliandil quietly directed their Just King to gently set the seedling down at the base of the teetering mast. Edmund did so and stood back. Then Lilliandil's eyes darted back towards her father' island, and a soft, warm wind picked up, blowing from inland to the harbor, and finally sweeping across the deck of the _Dawn Treader_. A dark blue light, like that which had destroyed Dark Island, encompassed the seedling, which began growing faster, first parallel to the mast. Then the bark of the new sapling expanded, wrapping around the mast, engulfing and consuming as the tree grew towards the sky. The ship creaked and rocked beneath them, and sailors ran up from below deck, shouting that tree roots were wrapping the ship, fusing with the panks and flattening against the sides.

Above them, the trunk of the tree had reached the remains of the crow's nest. Branches shot out, wrapping and twisting, until a new crow's nest settled against the mast, delicate and yet sturdy. Traveling further up, the braches twisted and sent out long needles with grew and twisted, braiding into rope. More needles sprouted and began weaving into the torn, ragged sail, their purple color blending neatly into the purple canvas. Golden see-cones flattened and spread, tracing and filling the great seal of Narnian which was woven on the sail. Around the Narnians, the roots and worked upwards, living wood repairing the heavy damage caused by the serpent's attack. Then, almost as quickly as it began, the tree ceased its growth and settled into its place as the heart of the _Dawn Treader_.

Caspian was startled when Lilliandil's voice spoke from beside him; he had not noticed her come to stand by him, entranced as he had been by the tree's marvelous growth. "It is a gift from my father," she said.

"I…" Caspian was not sure how to respond, especially when Lilliandil was smiling at him so openly and warmly. He swallowed. "You and your father have our thanks," he said finally, perhaps too formally, but the words held the sincerity of his feelings. By her smile, she heard what he did not say.

00000000000

Three days after the destruction of Dark Island, Eustace found himself unable to sleep. This was strange, since his bedroll was comfortably situated on a soft bed of moss across the clearing from Aslan's Table. With all the work it took settling things amongst the no-longer-lost ships, and making repairs to said ships without the aid of a magic tree, Eustace usually had no problem falling to sleep. Now, however, he remained awake, his mind abuzz and unable to settle.

Part of it was because he had done less work today, and had had more time to reflect on all that had happened on this strange, wonderful journey. Those thoughts would not rest, even for sleep. After tossing and turning, Eustace finally just gave in and got up from his bedroll. Not knowing quite where his feet were taking him, Eustace soon found himself on the edge of the island where he had met Aslan, where he had been restored. Sitting on the cliff, he dangled his feet over the edge and looked out across the ocean. Starlight and moonlight reflected off the calm seas, the darkness of the night sky beguiling instead of terrifying like it had been on Dark Island.

"Hello."

Startled, Eustace turned his head to look behind him. Edmund emerged from the shadows of the trees like a ghost, a fanciful image reinforced by his pale skin and light shirt. Stepping forward, Edmund came and sat next to Eustace on the ledge. Eustace looked down at his dangling feet. "Hi," he replied quietly.

"Couldn't sleep?" Eustace shook his head. "Too many thoughts keeping you up?"

Eustace shot a quick glance at his cousin. "How did you…?"

Edmund shrugged. "For some people it takes a couple of days for everything to hit." He sounded like he was speaking from experience. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Eustace idly kicked out his foot. After a moment, he answered his cousin. "Why did Aslan help me? I didn't _do _anything, not really. Why would he help me, change me back?"

"Well, I don't dare speak for Aslan," said Edmund, "but what you should know about him is that he loves." Like when Eustace had thought it himself, the word seemed paltry against what it described. Edmund continued, "He loves so much that he would do whatever it took to save you, no matter what you've done." Edmund paused as he looked up at the shining moon. "I know he did so for me, when I deserved it less than you do."

Eustace looked over at his cousin. Edmund's words rang true through the night air, with a depth beyond what he said. Eustace wondered at this depth, as he had often these past two days, where Edmund spoke little and, when he did, would say things like this. It just made Eustace wonder what had happened on Dark Island after he had left with the sword. He knew the serpent had attacked the ship, had heard whispers from the sailors of the lost ships that Edmund had defeated the sea serpent with a great, mysterious light.

Was it the light that had changed Edmund? Because while Eustace might have reasoned the change away as part of his own change in attitude, he knew he was not just seeing his cousin in a different light. No, Eustace could see how the Narnian sailors acted more subdued in Edmund's presence, saw that Lucy's fear had been replaced with something else. Something sad. Eustace could not help but think that, were he still a dragon, that the _something else_ he had tasted around Edmund would be different: either disappeared completely or grown and changed beyond measure.

Edmund turned then and caught Eustace's troubled stare. Giving a soft laugh, Edmund placed a hand on Eustace's shoulder. "You know, I think you've understood more of what's been going on than we gave you credit for." There was an apology in his voice that gave Eustace a bit of the courage he needed to speak up.

"As a dragon, it was more 'taste' than 'see'. And I tasted…there was something around you… I don't know what it was, I just knew it was frightening. I didn't like it." Eustace bit his lip, and would probably have been slightly put out had he been told how much he resembled Lucy in that moment. "Do you… do you know what it was?"

Edmund did not say anything for a while. To Eustace, it did not look so much like he was pondering the conundrum so much as trying to figure out how to explain it to Eustace. Finally, Edmund spoke, but instead of answering he asked a question of his own. "Did you notice it around anyone else?"

Eustace opened his mouth to immediately reply in the negative, but then paused. Had the _something else _been present elsewhere? Thinking back, there had been hints of it, around everyone and everything, but the _something else _had been so cloyingly thick around Edmund that Eustace had not paid much attention otherwise. "I think so," answered Eustace honestly, "but not a lot, not like with you."

Edmund nodded, obviously unsurprised. "That's because it's closer to me. But don't worry about it," he comforted Eustace, who was beginning to grow alarmed. "It may be around me, but it doesn't own me, not anymore." Edmund's eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight and Eustace unconsciously shivered. "Aslan saw to that, I promise you."

"I still don't understand," Eustace said, but his complaint was with no real upset.

Edmund smiled. "You will someday, I believe." Then, squeezing Eustace's shoulder once more, Edmund stood. "Now, do try and get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow."

Scrambling to his feet, Eustace furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

The smile on Edmund's face grew, and his eyes glinted. "Tomorrow we set sail for the end of the world.

* * *

.

Since it is Forgiveness Sunday, I would like to take this opportunity to ask forgiveness of all of you if I have hurt or offended you in any way during these years I have been on this site. Forgive me, a sinner.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

* * *

When Eustace woke again, it was nearing dawn, and the island was hushed in anticipation. Realizing that this was the first morning without Dark Island, Eustace hurried to his feet, hardly noticing that the rest of the sailors in the clearing were doing the same. Even the ones from the lost ships seemed to know something interesting was happening, and Eustace wondered if they had ever seen the morning birds when trapped in darkness.

Eustace was eager to experience a dawn from the center of the island, awake and human. Something deep inside told him that a dragon could not appreciate the dawn like a boy could. And, after his talk with Edmund and the calm it brought him, Eustace was more keen than ever to hear the Song of the Rising Sun, as he privately liked to call it.

Speaking of Edmund… Eustace saw his cousin moving away from Aslan's Table, following Lilliandil towards the center of the clearing. Then Eustace was distracted by the sight of bread of the Table, bread that glowed golden in the candlelight. He frowned. That had not been there when he had fallen asleep; where had it come from?

Then the music began and all thoughts of the mysterious meal fled from Eustace's mind. With only a few notes, all the clearing could tell that this was a different song from the last they heard. No, not different. More full, perhaps, or more clear or more clearly _more_. The island began it, a response to the East. Lilliandil's voice rose in those words that had no translation, but still spoke in the marrow of the body, the breath of the spirit. In front of them all, the trees moved, dancing to the song and revealing the first rays rising above water now clear of shadow.

Having not been in the clearing at the last dawn, Eustace was enthralled to see the trees, which had so hindered him as a dragon, dance effortlessly out of the way, allowing the gathered a full view of the sunrise. Beneath the slowly rising orb, creatures played in the sea, dolphins or the like, dark figures without menace that leapt playfully into the air as if joyfully mocking the darkness that once encompassed the area. And through and around the leaping sea animals came flying the great, fiery birds, red and gold and light. They spun through the air, over and under the bounding, laughing dolphins, skimming over the waves before lifting high into the air, spreading the light of the magnificent sun as they went, singing in harmony with the world. And here the song was clearly different once more, for instead of defiance, the music was of victory over darkness. The shadow was but a passing note, something dead and gone before it was even begun.

It was also here that Eustace heard a voice beneath the rest, one that had been there this whole time but he only now noticed. As everyone else kept their eyes intently fixed on the stream of red-gold that headed inexorably towards the island, while the music rose to thunderous heights, Eustace turned and looked at his cousin. Edmund stood behind and to the left of Lilliandil and Caspian. Somehow, beyond Eustace's comprehension, none but Eustace and, perhaps, Shaipor bey-Bahrm, still at his watchful post, seemed to notice that Edmund had lifted his own voice to join the song. Lower, softer, was his voice, yet strong and seeming to support the rest. In truth, the song had not been complete before, not without the blood of Adam restored to its place.

Eustace could not begin to guess at how Edmund so clearly sang the mysterious words of the song, but it hardly mattered. What mattered was the rightness of the sound, and the fire in Edmund's dark eyes as he watched not the birds but the sun itself, too bright for the rest of the mortals in the clearing, but effortlessly reflected in Edmund's face. There was no sadness here, not the resigned grief that seemed to somehow permeate the air around his cousins since the fight at Dark Island. Eustace, in the song, in the light, saw perhaps a glimpse of the truth, or the truth that would be once the last grief ended.

Then came the birds, streaming into the clearing as the song rose in welcome. The light, the music was overwhelming and Eustace forgot all as he was overcome. Bright feathers brushed by his face, and whirled around, and he whirled with it, laughing more freely and happily than he ever had in his life. It seemed too soon that the fiery river passed, flowing up the Mountain of Light and exploding into a sunburst of silence.

No one moved for what seemed like an eternity, but what was probably only a few moments. Then, slowly, the people in the clearing dispersed, quiet save for the amazed murmurs of the sailors from the lost ships. Eustace drew a deep breath and began to move, following those returning to the ships without much thought.

But before he went far, Eustace caught sight once more of Edmund, who still looked east at a sun that rose steadily into the air. The brightness of the morning was mirrored in his face, which seemed to shine with some otherworldly truth. Then Edmund moved forward and Eustace automatically made to follow him, stopped only by the movement at the edge of his vision. He looked and saw that it was Shaipor bey-Bahrm, shaking his head in a silent command.

Glancing at Edmund as his cousin made his way to the eastern overlook, Eustace moved to stand by Shaipor. The man remained at his post, fierce-looking and foreign, but Eustace did not fear him. Instead, he asked the question that all had been studiously ignoring. "What did you see? At the end of the sea serpent battle," he clarified, though without need.

Shaipor looked down at the boy who was said to be a dragon and answered in a low, almost awed voice. "We saw a light, greater than all, even that of the Mighty Sun and Tender Moon. It was not a light of matter, of the mortal world, and we all fell to our humble knees, unable to stand whilst even far from its presence." The Calormene's eyes flickered to where Edmund stood in the distance, leaning against a tree and staring into the east. "Yet even at the very heart of the light, he did not waver." Shaipor's brows furrowed, as if he was attempting to explain something he did not quite understand. "I do not…I did not think a mortal could be so near and not be taken by death, but there was…there was nothing there but life." Then Shaipor shook his head and shifted back to the more guarded position from which he had relaxed for a moment. "My people have always considered you Narnians to be uncouth, heathen barbarians. But I know that not even the greatest priest of Amaruk the Maker could have done such a thing."

By his tone, Shaipor was done speaking, and so Eustace thanked him and took his leave, heading out of the clearing without even looking back at his cousin. As Eustace dove into helping with whatever he was able – which, admittedly, was not much – he contemplated what Shaipor had said, wondering again if it had been the light that had caused the strange change in Edmund. He hypothesized that the light had been from Aslan. He pondered if the fact that the red-gold birds appeared to have replaced the bread-meal with the usual fare had any bearing on the mystery. For quite some time, as he worked, Eustace mused over his thoughts and the revelations that remained just out of reach.

It was only when it was time for the _Dawn Treader _to set sail for the end of the world that Eustace realized that he had not objected when Shaipor had intimated Eustace himself to be a Narnian. Somehow, it had just felt right, and the boy could not help but smile as he boarded the ship.

.

When Caspian had first ordered the _Dawn Treader _made ready to sail east, some of the sailors were wary about their destination. They were soon brought about by Reepicheep, who exhorted them to remember that Pith had sacrificed his chance to do this very thing, his greatest wish, in order to save them. Chastened, the Narnians quickly had the ship ready, leaving the armada of lost ships on Ramandu's Island under the protection of Lilliandil and the authority of Admiral Herist.

Eustace, not having the skills to help with any of the sailing, idly stood near the bow of the ship. Nearby, Reepicheep was standing on the dragon-head prow, which had been repaired as well by the magic tree. Together, Mouse and former-dragon looked out over the sea, which glistened in the morning sun. Whether because he was still getting used to his human senses again, or from some real change, the world seemed to Eustace to be growing _more_. More light, more thick, more clear, more colorful. The sun blazed, larger than should have been possible, and the air was crisp and sweet, and breathing was like drinking light.

It was Reepicheep's sharp eyes that caught sight of them first, not too far off from Ramandu's Island. "Eustace, look!"

Eustace squinted. "I only see foam on the waves," he said, but Reepicheep's whiskers twitched.

"Not foam, my boy. Look closer."

It took a moment, but then Eustace blinked in surprise. "Are those flowers?"

Indeed they were, water-lilies the color of pure, new-fallen snow. The _Dawn Treader _drew closer, but slowly. Despite the brisk wind, the ship had steadily slowed her speed, and she did so even more now. By the time she began cutting through the lily field, the _Dawn Treader_ was only inching forward. Finally, the order came to weigh anchor, despite the fact that the weight was hardly needed to stop the ship.

Eustace and Reepicheep joined Captain Drinian and the kings and queen on the quarterdeck to decide what to do next. Drinian did not think the ship could make it further, as oars would only tangle in the lilies. Reepicheep insisted that they had to press forward, for the sake of their oaths and honor, by longboat if need be. Eustace was not sure what he wanted, and so remained silent. While Caspian pondered his decision, however, Edmund spoke up softly, but with firm conviction. "Regardless, Lucy, Eustace, and I must go on."

Confused, Eustace frowned, but Drinian looked grim and Caspian looked, well, devastated. "You must?" the older king asked in a whisper.

Lucy, too, looked devastated, but not surprised. "It… Yes, we have to go," she said, blinking back tears.

Reepicheep bowed, somehow even including Eustace in his obeisance. "May I have the indulgence of journeying with you? For I shall go as far as the longboat may take me, and then I shall take the little coracle given me by the Lady Lilliandil, and then, should that fail me, I will swim for as long as my strength holds, seeking the East and Aslan's Country." Even Eustace's throat tightened at the fervor in the Mouse's small but strident voice.

Caspian visibly swallowed before nodding. "Very well. We will take a longboat, then."

"We?" asked Edmund, eyebrow raised. "Caspian…"

"There are only so many longboats left," said Caspian and he gave a wry, sad smile. "The _Dawn Treader _will remain here until I return with it." Caspian's eyes held a stubborn glint, if that glint was not the result of sadness, as he looked at Edmund. "I would go with you for as far as Aslan allows."

And thus the decision stood.

00000000000

After long farewells to the crew – Eustace was pleasantly surprised when the crew was sad to see _him _go, too – the longboat was lowered into the bed of lilies. Edmund and Caspian took up oars without a word; Lucy was at the rudder, but it was barely needed in the flat sea. Eustace idly watched the lilies as they went by, half expecting fairies to rise up from the petals and chastise them for the disturbance. When fanciful idea like that first started no longer seeming ridiculous, Eustace could not remember. He rather hoped they never stopped.

An eternity and no time at all later, the boat's occupants noticed something on the horizon. As they drew closer, they realized that it was a towering wave that reached into eternal sky, always breaking, never crashing. Closer they came until the oars and keel scratched through sand. Then the four humans and one Mouse disembarked, dragging the boat onto a sand dune that spread to the edge of the great wave. Just above the wave, they caught sight of high green cliffs, far in the distance, before the water grew higher, cutting off their view.

There was no doubt in Reepicheep's mind what he had seen, however. "Aslan's Country!" he cried jubilantly and dove towards the coracle stored overturned in the longboat. It was then, however, that they realized that they had overlooked a small detail before leaving the _Dawn Treader_. Namely, they had not checked under the coracle for stowaways. "Oh!" exclaimed Reepicheep as he attempted to keep said stowaway from escaping. However, with a defiant mrawl, Cream leapt nimbly from the longboat to the sand dune, where she sat as if daring Reepicheep to protest. From experience, they all knew better than to try and grab the cat; they hoped she would return to the boat if left alone, and so chose to ignore Cream and focus on Reepicheep's intentions.

Eustace carried the coracle for Reepicheep, setting it down at the end of the sand dune closest to the great wave. While he did so, the others bid their farewells to the Mouse: Edmund thanked him for keeping an eye on Caspian the last few years, while Caspian too thanked Reepicheep for all he had done, saluting the knight for his service to Narnia and releasing his oath of fealty to allow Reepicheep to leave with honor. Eustace could have scowled when Lucy began sniffling and – with permission – hugged Reepicheep; not because he resented the action, but because her tears made it harder for him to keep his own back.

Finally, it was Eustace's turn and he knelt next to the Mouse. "Tha…thanks," Eustace said, stumbling over his thick throat. "For putting up with me. For being…for being my friend." Indeed, Reepicheep had been the first real friend Eustace had ever had.

Reepicheep patted Eustace's arm and smiled. "My dear boy, it is my honor to be called your friend. Now, now," he added when Eustace's tears could no longer be held back. "No need for that. We shall see each other again someday. Have faith." While not sure he truly believed the Mouse's confidant words, Eustace nodded and stood. Reepicheep walked over and stood by his coracle. "Farewell, my friends. And as I shall have no need of weapons, I follow your lead, majesty," Reepicheep bowed to Edmund, who Eustace only now realized had remained unarmed since Dark Island, "and leave behind my sword." With that, Reepicheep drew his rapier and pierced the ground with its tip, a symbol of surrender. "And now…augh! No, get out of there!"

This last was aimed at Cream who, unnoticed until then, had slipped past them all and bounded into the coracle. Reepicheep shooed at her, but the cat simply stared at him as if she expected the rest of the world to cater to her wishes and was wondering why Reepicheep was not doing so. Edmund laughed brightly. "I believe she wants to go with you, Reep," he said, and Cream mewed as if in agreement. Her tail twitched impatiently.

Reepicheep eyed the cat, whose thin form reflected her habit of refusing to eat in favor of searching in vain for the long-departed Pith. In fact, this was the most spirit she had shown since Pith had left the ship. "You wish to find him, don't you?" the Mouse asked softly. Cream just kept staring at him; dumb beast though she was, she seemed to understand that going with Reepicheep would be a way to somehow find Pith again. Reepicheep sighed fondly. "Very well," he said. "Let us be off, then."

Bowing once more to his kings, queen, and friend, Reepicheep pushed the coracle into the water and leapt in next to Cream, grabbing the small paddle and furiously rowing. Eustace and the others watched as the tiny boat went up, up, higher and higher. Finally, it crested over the wave, and cat and Mouse disappeared into the horizon.

.

Eustace wiped his eyes with his sleeve. As his head turned, however, the corner of his eye caught sight of a flash of brilliant gold. "Aslan!" he cried out, and the others turned at the sound. Eustace thought he saw a strange look in Edmund's face, as if his cousin was seeing something else, beyond what Eustace and the others saw, but the look faded and by the recognition that replaced the odd look, Edmund was obviously seeing the same as the others now:

Aslan, golden and brighter than the sun, walking towards them, a loving smile lighting his countenance.

As the Lion neared them, all four humans knelt. Eustace mimicked Edmund and Caspian, who bowed on one knee, while Lucy knelt on both of hers. "Rise, my children," ordered Aslan kindly, and they obeyed. "You have done well. Now, this journey has come to an end."

"Reepicheep and Cream – they left to go to your country. Will they get there?" blurted out Eustace, not waiting for Aslan to continue.

"Their story is their own," said Aslan. "It is not for you to know." Eustace winced at the slight rebuke, but was soothed by Aslan's smile. The Lion then turned his eyes to Lucy, who was blinking back tears. "Dearheart, why do you weep?"

Lucy sniffled. "You're sending us back to our world now, aren't you?"

"That is the path you must take," said Aslan gently.

Eustace felt his heart sink. "But…we'll come back, won't we? I mean," Eustace looked at his cousins, "they've come back before."

Aslan's voice was stern but comforting as he said to Eustace, "Your story in this world is not yet over."

The Lion's golden eyes glanced towards Edmund, who ended the unspoken sentence: "But Lucy and I are too old to come back. Like Peter and Susan."

Eustace did not think this was fair at all, but Edmund seemed oddly accepting of such an edict. In fact, Caspian looked more upset than either Lucy or Edmund; Eustace recalled hearing that Edmund had adopted Caspian as a brother, and he could only imagine how it felt to know you would never see your family again.

Lucy, while accepting her fate, still had tears falling down her cheeks as she stepped closer to the Lion. "I understand, I do, but…Oh Aslan, I can't stand the thought of never seeing _you_ again!" Overcome, she threw her arms around Aslan's neck. Eustace almost wanted to do the same, shaken by the very idea of never again seeing Aslan.

"Ah, Lucy." Aslan nuzzled her shoulder. "Do not despair, for I am in your world as well."

Lucy pulled back. "You are?"

The Lion nodded. "There I have another name, and you must learn to know me by that name. That is why you were brought to Narnia: that by knowing me here, you might know me better in your own world." Eustace was not sure he understood, but Lucy smiled and stepped back, and there was a bright, wondrous glint in Edmund's eyes. Aslan smiled at them all. "And now, it is time."

The Lion let out a mighty roar that reverberated through Eustace's body to his very core. At the sound, the wave blew back, revealing an insubstantial doorway that extended into the water, into the light. It was a doorway to their world and it was time to go.

First, however, they would have to say goodbye. It was understood without words that Lucy and Eustace would go through first, for they would return to the Scrubbs' house in Cambridge while Edmund would return to the waves of the Atlantic. Since they would not see Edmund until his return to England, Lucy and Eustace would bid him farewell now, along with Caspian. Eustace spoke first with Edmund, as Lucy said goodbye to Caspian.

At first, neither boy said anything. Then Eustace cleared his throat. "Thanks, Edmund. For everything." The words were inadequate, but Eustace knew Edmund would understand.

He did, but Eustace was still surprised when Edmund pulled him into a hug. "Always remember what Aslan did for you, and you'll do well in life," Edmund advised him and then he pulled back, but kept his hands on Eustace's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "I need you to do something for me."

Eustace nodded, sensing the solemnity in his cousin's words. "What?"

Edmund's eyes flickered over to where Lucy was hugging Caspian, and then looked back at Eustace. His dark eyes burned with seriousness and Eustace felt his stomach twist. "I need you to be strong. For Lucy in particular. I need you to take care of our family. Can you do that for me?"

Eustace was confused. He could understand that Lucy would be upset when they returned to England, but there was something else going on here. Edmund was not just saying all this to be patronizing, to give Eustace a purpose back home. No, Edmund's face was too stern, too _sad _for that. He meant for Eustace to truly hold the family together; but why him? Eustace was certainly not the strong one. "But what about Peter? He could…"

Edmund's hands tightened on Eustace's shoulders and the younger boy swallowed hard as Edmund's face crumbled in grief for the shortest of moments. Then Edmund shook his head and the grief was gone, replaced with determination. "Not with this." '_With what?' _Eustace wanted to shout, but he did not. Instead, Edmund reiterated his request. "I need _you _to be strong for them. Please, Eustace?" It was not a request Eustace could refuse and so he nodded, squaring his shoulders under the weight of the burden placed on him. Edmund smiled, a picture of relief, and hugged his younger cousin again. "Good man," he whispered in Eustace's ear and then let go.

By that time, Lucy and Caspian had finished their own farewells, and Lucy was now speaking softly with Aslan. Caspian came to stand by Eustace, while Edmund walked over to his sister. Eustace and Caspian watched as Lucy embraced Aslan before releasing him and turning to her brother. As she did so, Caspian himself turned towards Eustace, giving the boy a friendly smile. "Eustace, it has been a pleasure getting to know you," the king said, shaking the boy's hand.

Eustace grinned. "I'll take you to mean it started being a pleasure once I couldn't talk anymore." Caspian laughed at the joke, which pleased Eustace; he was not used to people laughing at his jokes rather than at him.

Caspian clapped him on the shoulder. "It is too bad we have not had enough time to truly get to know each other. Let's hope that your next journey here will be soon in both worlds – you will always be welcome in my court, Eustace."

Eustace thanked him and reiterated the same wish. With no more to say, the two looked over to where Edmund and Lucy stood. The light-heartedness of Eustace's farewell to Caspian faded at the sight of Lucy's shoulders shaking while Edmund held her. She was clearly weeping, and clutching her brother as if she would never let him go. Worse was the fact that Eustace could see Edmund's pale face and the tears running down _his _cheeks. Somehow, seeing Edmund cry was worse than seeing Lucy, if only because it made the grief so…inevitable, if that was the right word.

With the soft thudding of paws on sand, Aslan came to stand on the other side of Eustace from Caspian. Eustace looked at the Lion, who gazed back, the message in his eyes clear: it was time for Eustace to begin being strong. Almost unconsciously, Eustace reached out and gently wove the fingers of one hand through Aslan's mane, a silent plea. In response, Aslan smiled and blew warm breath on Eustace's face; as he did so, Eustace felt a sense of calm crash over him like a waterfall. Breathing deeply, Eustace bowed slightly and stepped away from Aslan, towards his cousins.

"Lucy," Eustace said, quietly but loud enough to catch her attention. Not moving from her brother's embrace, Lucy turned her head to look at him. "Lucy, it's time to go."

He saw Edmund's arms tighten, heard Lucy's ragged, distressed gasp for air, but they did not deny his words, however much they wanted to. Edmund was first to move, kissing the top of his little sister's head. "Go on, Lu," he spoke into her hair and he loosened his tight embrace.

Lucy choked on her tears before she managed to whisper, "Love you, Ed." Then she took a deep, shuddering breath and started to step away.

Before she could do so completely, Edmund's hand shot out and grabbed her right hand in a tight grip. "Give my love to Peter and Susan," he asked hoarsely, "and always remember, Lucy: my love will go with youto eternity." His face was red from his tears, but Edmund's eyes were fierce, desperate. "_Remember_," he insisted again, his hand trembling around hers.

Lucy gave her brother the saddest smile and Eustace's heart _ached _to see it. "I will," she promised softly and Edmund's shoulders slumped in relief. Then, slowly, fingers lifted and their hands parted.

Seeing Lucy's empty hand still partially extended _hurt_ to see, and Eustace stepped forward, taking it in his own hand. He caught Edmund's glance, and the gratitude in his cousin's eyes made Eustace turn his head away. "Come on, Lucy," Eustace said in as strong a voice as he could manage. They walked towards the doorway in the wall of water, each footstep heavier than the one before. Stepping through, water above and beside them, Eustace and Lucy turned to look behind them, for one last, desperate glance. There Edmund stood between Caspian and Aslan, all seeming to drift further and further away. Before they fell out of sight, as water fell around them, Eustace saw Edmund raise his hand in a final farewell, the dark shadow of the prayer rope dangling from his wrist.

0000000000

Caspian watched as the figures of Lucy and Eustace disappeared into the bright water. Beside him, Edmund slowly lowered his raised arm and let out a choked sigh, which, unfortunately, reminded Caspian of what would come next. Caspian kept his eyes on the waves, wishing to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Saying goodbye to Lucy for the final time had been hard. To bid a final farewell to Edmund, his closest friend, his brother…

Thoughts of delay fled, however, when, next to him, Edmund suddenly slumped against Aslan, leaning into the Lion's side. Alarmed, Caspian reached out a steadying hand, but Edmund just clutched Aslan's mane in a grip that might have hurt a normal lion. Aslan, though, was no normal lion, and Caspian could hear the Great Lion purring to comfort the obviously distressed Edmund. Not knowing quite what to do, Caspian just maintained a grip on his brother's arm until Edmund's breathing was steadier and he looked less likely to blow over in a gentle breeze.

"Ed?" Caspian asked cautiously as he dropped his hand to his side.

"I couldn't tell her." asked Edmund in an abrupt answer, his voice torn as he stared at the bright doorway in the waves where Lucy had left this world. "I… I almost did, but I _couldn't. _She was already so upset, I couldn't let that hang over our goodbye, couldn't be the one to hurt her." Edmund looked from the wall of water to Aslan. "Forgive me for being selfish."

Caspian did not register Aslan compassionately granting that forgiveness. He was too focused on the words that came before. "Edmund, what do you mean?" A pit of dread was beginning to form in his gut, and although he asked he was not sure he wanted an answer. "What didn't you tell Lucy? What could hurt her so much to know?" Lucy's distress at her parting with Edmund had been palpable. What could make it worse?"

Edmund glanced at Caspian and then hastily looked away to Aslan. At the sight of it, Caspian's dread grew. After what seemed like an eternity, Edmund turned from his silent conversation with the Lion. Looking Caspian straight in the eyes, Edmund took a deep breath and spoke the words that had been hanging in the air from the moment Edmund had been pulled beneath the waters of the Atlantic:

"I didn't tell her that when I return to our world, I'm going to die."

Caspian shuddered, but clutched onto thin threads of denial. "You… you mean you're in danger of your life when you return." Danger, Caspian could handle. Edmund had survived deadly situations before, he could do so again.

But Edmund's eyes were filled with sadness – not for himself, but for Caspian. "No, not just in danger. The fire and the propeller…" As if realizing Caspian would not understand the precise situation, Edmund shook his head. "I can't escape what's coming; there won't be a last-minute rescue. When I step through that wave," he nodded at the doorway, "that's it."

"Then don't go!" Caspian nearly shouted the words, his heart pounding, fear tearing at him. "Stay here, return to Narnia with me! You'll be safe, you…" Except by Edmund's stubborn look, Caspian knew he would not go against Aslan's decree that he was too old for Narnia. In desperation, Caspian turned to the one who might change fate. "Aslan, please, let him stay! _Save him!_."

It was not the Lion that answered, but Edmund. "Caspian, don't. This isn't…" Edmund paused and looked at Aslan for a moment before continuing. "I've known for a while, even if I tried to ignore it. Tried to fight it. But I've learned… I understand, now, that I don't have to fear it." And there was something in Edmund's eyes, some deeper understanding that reminded Caspian ever so much of the light that had defeated the serpent; but Caspian himself did not understand, not this… this acceptance of death, of the unknown to come.

"My son," Aslan spoke softly to Caspian, answering his distress. "There are some mysteries that cannot be known, though they may be understood beyond knowledge." Caspian looked into Aslan's golden eyes and was seized deep in his soul by the pain there, the grief, the overwhelming love. "Someday, you also may understand the mystery." Aslan's gaze was fierce with gentleness. "For now, trust your brother's words. Trust me."

Caspian felt a hand on his arm, and looked over at Edmund. The grief and love in the younger king's face matched that in Aslan's, and Caspian was struck at how joy and sorrow could mingle with such harmony. "Caspian, it's time to let go."

Still, Caspian did not want to release the hope that Edmund could stay, could _live. _"Ed…" he said, his voice cracking at the name. "Ed, I don't… I have to do _something_." He was supposed to be able to save his brother – he had promised Lucy, had promised himself.

"There is something you can do," said Edmund, softly, firmly. "You can return to the _Dawn Treader_, to Ramandu's Island. You can court the lady you love, marry her, raise a family. You can continue to be the good king you've become, and rule wisely and justly for many, many years." Edmund was smiling, but his cheeks were wet. "And you can remember me?" This last was said with hesitant hope, and a shuddered sob escaped Caspian as he pulled his brother into an embrace.

"I will_ never _forget you, Ed," he almost hissed as tears pushed by his closed eyelids. "Never."

Edmund returned the fierce embrace, but all-too-soon he pulled back. "You're a good king and a good man, Caspian. I'm proud to call you brother."

"Not as proud as I am to call _you _so," answered Caspian, hating the weakness in his own voice.

Edmund nodded and stepped away. Bowing to Aslan, the Just King began walking towards his fate, even as Caspian wanted to scream, grab him, take him far from this, back to Narnia, back to safety. But instead Caspian reached out and clutched at Aslan's mane, and watched his brother walk away. At the edge of the doorway in the water, Edmund turned around, and Caspian's heart twisted at the smile on his face. The grief in Edmund's face had been transcended by something else, some great joy. "This isn't the end," Edmund said, his eyes sparkling with light, his voice soft but still ringing through the air.

Then Edmund turned and stepped through the doorway, returning home.


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

Merrick Olsen could only stare in horror, helpless as he watched the men – men and one young boy – slip into the pounding, icy waters of the Atlantic.

All in the lifeboat were of one accord as to their next action. Jones shouted the order and oars were taken up, rudder turned, and the boat began its slow journey back to the _Pevensey Bay_. With the churning sea and the frozen hands of the seamen, the boat moved with agonizing slowness. Still too, too far off, the sailors heard the shouts of their comrades in the water, shouts that grew more frantic as the fiery oil drove them closer to the rising stern of the ship. Without an oar, Merrick was forced to just watch, helplessly, as the men in the water were forced by fire and sea towards the propellers that still spun above the waterline, the ship not yet having lost power and still slowly moving forward.

In the end, the fire cut off the fallen men from the sight of those in the lifeboat. But the fire could not cut off the sounds. The frightened shouts turned to screams of terror and pain, and the whirling of the propellers was interrupted by the cracking of wood and shrieks of agony as overturned lifeboat and men alike were drawn into the deadly blades.

Then little other than moaning could be heard and Merrick was sick over the side of the lifeboat.

For too long the lifeboat worked its way towards the moans that grew fainter despite the closing distance. Still, the men were determined and they faltered only once: when the _Pevensey Bay_'s stern suddenly lifted into the air, perpendicular to the sea, and then slowly slid into the waves. The water hissed with steam as the fires on the ship were put out, and then all that remained on the surface were the spatters of oil fire and the dark forms of men, bobbing in the waves behind the fire.

It took time to row the lifeboat around the fiery oil-slicks. By the time they did so, two other lifeboats – which had been lowered off starboard instead of port – had already reached the men in the water. By the grim looks on those men's faces, they had found few alive. Between the propellers, the fires, and the cold of the Atlantic, too-few men were being pulled into the lifeboats. Silently, Merrick's boat joined the search, methodically reaching over the side to check the vitals of the bodies. They found one man, uninjured, but who was shaking uncontrollably, his skin blue with hypothermia and the shock of witnessing such terrible scenes.

Another man, one of the ratings, was nearly dropped back into the water as his burned skin peeled back from his body while Merrick and Ahmed were pulling him in. They caught him, but he lasted only a few moments before dying. Wordlessly, knowing they did not have the room, they slipped his body back into the sea. Two more men were located by groans, but one died before they reached him and the other was missing everything below his chest – they brought him in and made him as comfortable as they could, knowing he would be gone soon enough.

.

Morning was dawning, though the sun remained hidden by grey clouds. Soon almost all the visible bodies had been checked, and the two other lifeboats left, heading north in hopes of hitting Greenland. Still, Merrick's bot remained. There was one body that had not been seen by them, and it was understood that they would not leave until he was found or there were no more bodies left. Soon, but not soon enough, a shout went up in the lifeboat and the men turned towards the floating body that had been sighted.

The dark head was face up, bruised but recognizable, and they did not even check for signs of life before they desperately hauled the body into the lifeboat. But the groan that issued forth from blue lips did not reassure anyone. "Oh, _Pedhin_," murmured Jones as he pulled the boy's head onto his lap.

Merrick was nearly sick again – someone else, he did not know who, actually was by the sound of retching nearby. Kneeling on Pedhin's left side, Merrick gently picked up the boy's hand, trying to ignore the rest of him. What was left of him. Indeed, Pedhin's left hand had been the only one he could take; the boy's entire right side was completely mangled, and Merrick kept his eyes on Pedhin's battered face in order not to see the shredded remains of the child's body. It seemed likely the only reason Pedhin had not yet died of blood loss had been the cold of the icy Atlantic.

Before long, however, it was clear that the wounds were not going to kill him; not with the hasty but determined work one of the sailors – a medic? – was attempting. No, the wounds, terrible as they were, was not what was clearly killing Pedhin. Horribly, what had saved him was killing him, as hypothermia and shock slowly drained his life, as it had the first man they had pulled from the water. There were no dry, warm clothes to put him in, no way to warm him up, no way to treat the shock.

But there was still some fight left in the indomitable boy. Despite the shock, the pain, Merrick watched Pedhin struggle to consciousness. Dark eyes, glazed over, opened, looking around, not really seeing the men huddled around him. "Pedhin?" asked Merrick, softly, hopefully.

The boy's eyes seemed to focus on him and Merrick gently squeezed his hand. Pedhin glanced down as if to look at the hand, then stared straight into Merrick's eyes, his gaze suddenly sharp. "Lu… Lu… see…" Pedhin stumbled terribly over the words, despite a near desperate intensity in their softness.

It took a moment for Merrick to realize what Pedhin was trying to say. "Lucy? Your sister?"

There was the slightest nod in response, and the boy's hand, trembling, tightened on Merrick's. "Give… her… Tell them… Aslan. "Almost as quickly as his gaze had sharpened, Pedhin's eyes glazed over again and he muttered into silence: "Aslan, Aslan, Aslan…"

Beside him, Ahmed was murmuring about lions, but Merrick was desperately trying to figure out what Pedhin was talking about, what he wanted Merrick to give to his sister. "Pedhin, what…" Merrick trailed off as his hand tightened around the boy's hand and he felt lumps. Releasing the hand, Merrick saw for the first time that Mickey's prayer rope was wrapped around Pedhin's wrist. Finally, the connection was made. Slowly, Merrick unwound the rope and clutched in in his own hand before gently taking up Pedhin's again. "I'll get it to her, I promise," he whispered, but Pedhin did not give any sign of understanding.

The boy's breathing was rapid, shallow, and Merrick could feel the too-fast pulsing of Pedhin's heart beneath his fingers. A moment and an eternity passed before Pedhin's confused mutterings gained coherency. It was clear, however, that the boy did not know where he was, as he tried feebly to move, his head turning as if looking for something that was not there. Some of the men in the lifeboat began crying as Pedhin called softly for his siblings – for Lucy and Susan and, above all, for Peter. The sound was unbearable, the pain-filled plea for his brother – Peter, Peter! – each time the name piercing those around the dying boy, and each man would have given anything to be able to answer that cry. One could, though – at least, he could answer with false hope.

"I'm here." Merrick looked up at the choked voice. Still holding Pedhin's head in his lap, Jones was speaking through his tears. "I'm here, Edmund," he said and it was only when Pedhin stilled that Merrick remembered that Jones shared a voice with Pedhin's beloved older brother.

Merrick's throat closed around his own tears when Pedhin's weak, dry voice whispered, "Pete? Peter… tired… wanna…home… Can I g'home?" Jones breathed out a sob, shaking his head as he tried to speak. "Peet'a, can g'home?" Please?"

Merrick watched Jones's lips quiver as he nodded, although it was doubtful Pedhin could see him. "Yes," Jones finally whispered hoarsely, speaking past tears to give Pedhin the only thing he could – a release, a blessing. "Yes, you can go home now. I'm…I'm proud of you, Ed." Jones swallowed hard. "Go to sleep. We'll be home soon."

A strangely content smile crossed Pedhin's face at that and the boy's unfocused eyes closed. Within moments the fast pulse slowed, and then stopped, and the shallow breathing disappeared, and Pedhin was gone.

Merrick stared numbly at the dead child, never having believed before this that death could look peaceful. With another sob, Jones gathered the boy closer to his chest, unashamedly weeping. And there was no shame, for almost every man in the boat was crying as well, the loss of their cabin boy the final blow on this damnable night.

But it was night no longer. To the east, the sun suddenly broke through the grey sky. Morning's rays fell across the lifeboat, highlighting Jones and the boy he held, who could be sleeping if not for his mangled body and utterly still chest. It was a tableau of the war, a dead child, a weeping soldier, a hideous _pietà_. Merrick's hand was around his previously discarded camera before he knew what was happening. Realizing, he nearly dropped it in horror, but then Jones looked up at him, his eyes red and angry. "Take it," he growled with a sob. "Take it and show the whole damned world."

And raising the camera to his eye, Merrick complied with the fierce, broken order.

*_snap_*

0000000000

The skies in England were always grey, it seemed to Merrick as he stared out, seeing nothing but the slight mizzling of rain that left a sheen of tears on the cab's window. It had been grey in Liverpool when they had disembarked the rescue ship, three weeks after the _Pevensey Bay _went down. It had been grey when he had argued vigorously with the ship's owners, calling in every favor he had, trying to get some sort of compensation for the _Pevensey Bay's _seamen, for the families of the lost. It had been grey when Merrick had succeeded and went back to Pedhin's unremarkable grave in Liverpool to tell him that his family would get _something_ – and that he felt he could at least facethe sister who likely still did not know of her brother's death.

The skies had been grey and raining stair-rods when Merrick and Jones parted ways; Jones had found out where Peter Pevensie lived and was going to tell him his brother's last words, a last, terrible gift. And now the clouds remained grey as Cambridge rolled by, a grey city in a grey country filled with people with grey faces. Merrick hated to look at them, none of them knowing just what price their freedom had extracted on the Atlantic. The cabbie had attempted a conversation, but Merrick was too lost in his miserable thoughts to respond. So the drive from the train station passed in grey silence.

The cab came to a stop. "Here we are, sir." Merrick silently paid him, then gave a little more to have him wait until he came out of the house that loomed before him. The cabbie accepted genially, but the old man's sharp eyes seemed to see through Merrick. "You're a bit old for a telegram boy," he said, and the implications were enough.

Merrick answered, his voice low and hollow. "Telegram went to his parents in America. His sister doesn't know."

The cabbie's face was solemn and sympathetic. "God be with you then. And with her."

Merrick nodded his thanks and left the cab. Shutting the door, he adjusted his borrowed tie and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles from his borrowed, ill-fitting suit. Finally, he could put it off no longer and he limped towards the dull, grey door, leaning heavily on his cane. Automatically, his other hand slide into his pocket and fingered the woolen knots of Mickey's prayer rope. One of the reasons Merrick had put this off, besides dread, besides needing to demand compensation for this family and others, was the comfort Merrick found in this little token. He did not know why it had been so important to Mickey, or why Pedhin had ended up with it, or why it had been so important to the child that his sister now have it. Merrick only knew that clutching the rope in his hand had become a barrier to being overwhelmed by memories and nightmares.

He had promised a dying boy, though, _that _dying boy, and so here he was, standing in front of a wooden door. Breathing deeply, Merrick released the prayer rope, raised his hand, and knocked sharply three times. For a long moment Merrick feared and hoped that no one was at home; but then he heard the pounding of feet on stairs and shouting. The door swung open, and a young boy of about nine looked up at him, expression curious. "Yes? I mean, can I help you?"

Merrick ignored the desire to run away. "Yes, is Lucy Pevensie here?" It had taken him awhile to find out where Pedhin's sister was staying. He had put his vicariously-acquired investigative skills to good use to find the Scrubbs and where they lived.

The boy – probably the Scrubb boy, Eustace – blinked and then squinted in suspicion. "What do you want her for?"

Uncomfortable, Merrick shifted his grip on the cane. "I…I have something for her. From her brother. Edmund."

At the name, Eustace's eyes lit up; then he stiffened, as if a thought had hit him with actual force. The burgeoning smile faltered and the boy grew solemn. "Come in," he said, voice subdued, and he led Merrick into a small sitting room. "Have a seat. Lucy's upstairs. I'll… I'll send her down."

With that, Eustace disappeared. Merrick, leg aching, sat in one of the fashionable but uncomfortable chairs. His heart pounded, every part of him dreading this. His only consolation was the prayer rope in his pocket and the knowledge that, probably just around now, Jones was feeling the same way in London, speaking with the boy who shared his voice.

The ticking of the clock was unbearably slow, and still too-fast as each tick brought the inevitable meeting closer. He heard footsteps again, slower and lighter, and then a young girl entered the room, oh, _God_, she was so young. Merrick struggled to get to his feet, the pain of his leg infinitely preferable to the pain in his soul as he looked at the innocent, young face of Lucy Pevensie. But the girl was as kind as her brother had boasted, and she insisted that he remain seated. He could do naught but obey, and soon the child was sitting across from him, her eyes earnest and worried. "I'm sorry, Eustace didn't mention your name."

"Mer…" His voice croaked and he cleared his through. "I'm Merrick Olsen, a photographer from the _Washington World Reporter._"

Lucy's gaze was piercing, as if she could see through his hesitation, could see his dread. "Eustace said you had something for me from Edmund?"

Merrick nodded and cleared his throat again, looking just over her shoulder so he was not looking at the clear, blue eyes that shone like her brother's. "Yes, yes I do. But first… First I have to tell you something."

The girl's hand moved to clutch the armrest of her chair. "What?" she whispered, eyes widening at his somber tone. "Tell me what?"

Taking a deep breath, Merrick began speaking the words he had memorized and repeated himself for the entire trip here, those terrible words: "I'm so sorry. It is with the deepest regret that must inform you…."

And outside the dull grey house, in the dull grey rain, an old, grey cabbie looked up at the weeping, grey sky and prayed for the sun to rise up and conquer the darkness.


	23. Chapter One of The Story

**Chapter One of The Story**

* * *

"Peter, High King of Narnia. Shut the Door," said Aslan softly, yet the command was clear and could not be gainsaid. Lucy squeezed her eyes closed as Peter followed the command, shutting off the last of Narnia from their sight and locking the Door with a golden key. She only opened them again when Aslan cried, "Come further in! Come further up!" and so she saw him dash away, and although there was warm daylight and laughter around them, she wept.

Lucy knew she would heed Aslan, would follow eventually, but for now she grieved. An arm wrapped around her shoulders, Peter's arm, and Lucy's tears flowed faster for she knew his would not come. She wept for both of them, for Peter had let tears fall in front of others only three times since they had lost their brother: sobbing brokenly when he came to Cambridge after being told the news, crying angrily when Susan abandoned her grief for a new joy he did not understand, and weeping with grieved happiness when he had finally relented to Aslan's call in their world.

So now Lucy wept because Peter would not, and he held her as he always had, the stoic comforter. "Lucy?" he asked softly. "Are you alright?"

Swallowing back the worst of the tears, Lucy said, "Narnia's gone, Peter. I'm sure Aslan would not try to stop me from crying, from missing it. Think of everything that's gone, dead now, frozen beyond that door."

"We saw it began and now we see it die," commented Professor Kirke near them as he placed his arm around the shoulders of a crying Polly.

"It is well to mourn," said Queen Fern the Last of Narnia, her usually strong voice quivering, "and I would not seek to stop you. But…where is the Queen Susan?"

It was then that those who were the friends of Narnia paused their mourning. Blinking, Peter looked into the distance, towards the bright sunlight and the green hills over which Aslan had bounded. "I…She's already left!" he exclaimed, wondering.

"Oh how _can _she?" cried Jill. "Doesn't she realize Narnia's _gone_?"

Eustace humphed at his friend's distress. "Jill, Susan stopped missing Narnia long ago. She found something _better _and is following Him now. And why aren't we, can I ask?"

.

For indeed, Susan had not hesitated in following Aslan, and now Peter and Lucy were running after their sister. It did not take long for Queen Fern, Eustace, Jill, Professor Kirke, and Polly to follow and catch up with the High King and Valiant Queen. It amazed them how fast they spun by the world, and yet could still see everything, every beautiful, brilliant detail. Cries of joy went up as they realized that they were inexplicably running through Narnia, for all that they had seen Narnia's end with their own eyes. They saw now, with wonder, the clear peaks of the Northern Mountains in the distance, and they ran through the fields of Whitewheat, and breathed in the fragrance of the sweet alyssum of the hills of Eveningfalls. They saw their home, thought lost, but here renewed, nay, here were the places of which Narnia had been but a faded copy, and they rejoiced to see it. But they did not stop their increasingly joyous race until they reached the Western Wood or, rather, the True Western Wood, of which the forest they remembered seemed only a shadow.

In the distance, beyond the trees, there was a Great Waterfall, rising to the sky, and on top there was a great, green wall, behind which one could see silver trees hanging with apples of gold. And Professor Kirke shouted when he saw it, for it was the Garden from which the Tree of Protection had come in the Beginning. Before the wall stood a crowd of people, that seemed to be waiting for them, anxious in manner and yet with calm joy that radiated from above.

Those still beneath the Great Waterfall could just make out faces of the people above them and beyond them, and Lucy cried out to see Reepicheep at the wondrous gates of purest gold, the Mouse standing before the rest of the gathered, the sun gleaming off the golden circlet and scarlet feather on his head. Nearby more familiar faces stood out, and there was King Caspian X and Queen Lilliandil, and Eustace and Jill exclaimed loudly and happily when they saw the two standing near them: King Edmund the Steadfast, son of Caspian, waved at them with one hand, his other arm around his wife Queen Glenna Witch-bane. Beyond them were faces that Peter and Lucy knew well from their reign, but though all these people waited, and the Garden beckoned, those in the Wood did not heed those old friends.

For before them, under the boughs of the True Western Wood, stood three figures and they were arrested by the sight of them. For surely the greatest and brightest of the figures was Aslan himself: golden, brilliant, eyes smiling with the greatest Love, beyond what any description could ever say. Next to him stood a man and a woman, arm in arm, both tall and lithe, with crowns on their dark heads and a radiant glow to their faces. They were neither young nor old, and their beauty was as like to Aslan but not ever reaching his resplendence.

The woman laughed and they realized it was Susan, but already _more _Susan than when she had left them moments and eons before. "Finally, you have come!" she cried out, smiling with utter joy. "I have so longed to go on, to the Garden and onward."

"But we have waited here for you: for we will go further up and further in together," said the man holding Susan's arm, and the eyes of the others were opened and they recognized him, his dark, bright eyes, and his warm smile, and his beloved face.

"Edmund!" cried out Peter and Lucy, and their feet moved in a blur as they raced towards him. They reached him as the same moment, and then he was in their arms, solid and warm and alive, so very alive. And then more arms joined them as Susan entered their embrace as well, and the Four Sovereigns of Narnia's Golden Age were reunited under Aslan's smile, their love for each other so bright that the others had to turn away from its force.

Moments and an eternity passed before Edmund was released by his siblings, so that their eyes could better drink in the sight of their brother, gone for so long and now more whole and well than he had ever been in life. There were no shadows in his eyes, no dark memories lurking in his mind, no hidden torments in his heart. He was Edmund, but more Edmund than before. Tears fell from the eyes of all four kings and queens, Peter and Lucy weeping hardest of all, but they were tears of utmost joy, with no sorrow even in memory. "But how?" choked out Peter. "You died. You've been dead, for so _long_._"_

Edmund smiled tenderly, and his smile was pure and delighted. "Oh Peter, I've been alive, so very alive. I'm more alive than I ever thought possible in the Shadowlands." He looked at Aslan. "There _is _no death, Peter. Not anymore. We were asleep for a while, but now it is time to _live_." Edmund held out his arms to his family. Behind him, the Wood merged with the Great Waterfall, and the hearts of all were turned towards that place, for Aslan was already there, beckoning them onward and upwards, further up, further in, towards Beauty and Brightness and Love.

And there was Peace as Edmund grinned and Aslan roared, welcoming them home.

* * *

.

_For Shane (March 18, 1987-January 8, 2009). May your memory be eternal._


End file.
